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library  of 
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C  O  I.  L  E  C  T  I  O  X     OF 

NORTH    CAROLIXIAXA 


K  X  D  O  ^\'  E  D       B  Y 

JOHN    SPRUNT    HILL 

of  the  class  of  1889 


I' 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


000 


7475028 


24 


G817> Eeake_ 


P3^ 


This  BOOK  may  be  kept  out  TWO  WEEKS 
ONLY,  and  is  subject  to  a  fine  of  FIVE 
CENTS  a  day  thereafter.  It  was  taken  out  on 
:he  day  indicated  below: 


LI 


The    Darlingtons 


The  Darlingtons 


By 
Elmore  Elliott  Peake 


New  York 

McClure,  Phillip  ^  Co. 

igoo 


Copyright^  igoo 
By  McClure,  Phillips  &  Co. 

All  rights  reserved 

First  impression,  September,  1900 
Second  impress!  on,  October,  1900 
Third  impression,  November,  1900 
Fourth  impression,  December,  1900 


MANHATTAN   PRESS 


To  Mr  Mother 


Contents 


Chapter  Page 

I.  The  Penalty  of  Oratory i 

II.  An  Uncanonical  Confession 13 

III.  Some  Mutual  Diplomacy 22 

IV.  A  Benevolent  Conspiracy 33 

V.  A  Clerical  Intervention 40 

VI.   The  Problem  of  Justice 53 

VII.  The  Corporate  Soul 61 

VIII.  The  Tug  of  Conscience 70 

IX.  Mother  and  Daughter 76 

X.  A  Phantom  of  the  Night 88 

XL  The  Trail  of  the  Phantom loi 

XII.  ** Because  I  Love  Him!" 114 

XIII.  The  Problem's  Solution 129 

XIV.  The  Woman  of  Business 136 

XV.  Tickets  and  Chrysanthemums 152 

XVI.   A  Matter  of  Horsemanship 165 

XVII.   Pro's  and  Con's 174 

XVIII.  Kaltenborn's  Flock 188 

XIX.   Ancestral  and  Other  Secrets 204 

XX.   The  Leaven  Works 220 

XXI.   A  Dangerous  Prescription 241 

XXIL  The  "Speed"  Party 258 

XXIII.  The  New  Engine's  Mettle 275 


viii  Contents 

Chapter  Page 

XXIV.  A  Drowning  Man's  Straw 294 

XXV.  Where  Forgiveness  is  Divine 315 

XXVI.  The  Evangelist 322 

XXVII.  The  Test  of  Friendship 337 

XXVIII.   A  Providential  Intervention 346 

XXIX.   Untying  a  Knot 358 

XXX.  The  Serpent's  Cunning 369 

XXXI.   Reaping  the  Whirlwind 379 

XXXII.  Aftermath 389 

XXXIII.  The  Paternal  Heart 400 

XXXIV.  The  First  Battle 409 


The  Darlingtons 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   PENALTY   OF   ORATORY 


"  The  wealth,  beauty,  and  fashion  of  Ashboro  "  —  to 
quote  from  the  Ashboro  Intelligejicer  of  the  following 
week  —  were  assembled  in  the  new  general-office  build- 
ing of  the  High  Point,  Rankelman,  Ashboro,  and  South- 
ern Railroad.  The  tessellated  ground-floor,  set  apart 
for  station  purposes,  but  not  yet  cut  up  into  waiting- 
rooms,  ticket-office,  and  baggage-room,  presented  a 
long,  clean  sweep  from  one  end  of  the  building  to 
the  other.  Here  the  guests  came  to  a  comparative 
rest  after  flocking  through  the  general  offices  upstairs, 
which  had  been  thrown  open  to  the  public  through  the 
courtesy  of  President  Darlington.  These  rooms  were 
mostly  bare  as  yet,  but  the  potentialities  stored  up  in 
them  as  the  heart  of  the  H.  P.,  R.,  A.,  and  S.  system, 
limited  to  one  hundred  and  two  miles  though  that 
system  was,  made  them  interesting.  In  the  train- 
despatcher's  office,  however,  the  telegraph  instruments 
were  already  busily  clicking,  and  the  three  or  four  young 
operators,  hedged  off  by  a  neat  railing  from  the  curious 
throng,  calmly  smoked  their  cob  pipes  as  they  fingered 
their  keys. 


The  Darlingtons 


By  eight  o'clock  the  ground-floor  was  full  of  people  — 
altogether  too  full  for  dancing,  some  of  the  young  women 
anxiously  observed.  A  temporary  platform  had  been 
erected  at  one  end  of  the  room.  One  side  of  this  was 
occupied  by  the  Ashboro  band ;  the  other,  by  a  group 
of  sedate,  prosperous-looking,  middle-aged  men,  mostly 
portly  and  mostly  bald.  This  group  comprised  the 
president  and  the  directors  of  the  road,  the  Mayor  and 
the  common  council  of  Ashboro,  and  a  few  other 
prominent  citizens. 

After  a  ratthng  number  by  the  band,  a  brief  address 
by  the  Mayor,  and  another  rattling  number  by  the  band, 
a  neatly  dressed,  handsome  man,  with  a  strikingly  firm 
and  graceful  carriage,  side  whiskers,  and  keen  black  eyes, 
—  they  were  really  brown,  —  advanced  to  the  front  of 
the  platform,  with  one  hand  hanging  easily  by  the  thumb 
from  his  vest  pocket.  He  might  have  been  fifty  or 
more,  but  there  was  a  delusively  youthful  air  about  his 
pleasant  face,  well-groomed  person,  and  scrupulous  at- 
tire. His  appearance  created  a  storm  of  applause,  and 
a  stranger  might  readily  have  guessed  that  the  speaker 
was  C.  A.  Darlington,  president  of  the  H.  P.,  R.,  A., 
and  S.  Railroad. 

"  Friends  and  fellow-citizens,"  he  began,  in  a  voice 
not  very  loud  or  very  clear,  but  very  convincing,  "  I 
am  going  to  take  you  all  into  my  confidence  to-night. 
I  beheve  you  are  worthy  of  it.  I  believe  the  pubhc  is 
generally  worthy  of  confidence  ;  I  believe  it  can  be 
trusted.  And  as  this  railroad  is  run  in  the  interests  of 
all  you  people  (laughter),  I  don't  see  why  you  should  n't 
know  some  things.  That  is  why  I  invited  you  all  here 
to-night  —  not  simply  to  eat  and  dance  and  have  a 
good  time.     But  I  am  not  going  to  talk  long,  and  you 


The  Penalty  of  Oratory  3 

girls  who  are  tapping  the  floor  with  your  feet  can  soon 
throw  yourselves  into  the  arms  of  Terpsichore." 

After  a  pause,  in  which  his  face  dropped  some  of  its 
levity,  though  his  eyes  never  ceased  their  twinkling,  he 
continued  :  "  You  all  know  what  your  town  was  before 
I  built  this  road,  ten  years  ago.  You  all  know  what 
any  town  is,  in  this  day  and  age,  without  a  raikoad. 
It 's  like  a  man  who  can't  read  or  write.  No  matter 
what  its  natural  advantages  are,  without  a  railroad  they 
all  go  for  nothing.  But  I  am  not  going  to  say  that  I 
bailt  this  road  out  of  philanthropy.  I  built  it  to  make 
money.  I  have  made  money ;  I  expect  to  make  more. 
No  man  in  this  town  ever  saw  me  make  a  poor  mouth, 
or  heard  me  complain  of  hard  times.  I  don't  do  it. 
But  I  believe  I  can  truthfully  say  that  you  people  have 
shared  in  that  prosperity.  Every  year  we  have  given 
you  better  service  than  the  year  before,  and  nearly  every 
year  there  has  been  some  reduction  in  freight  rates.  I 
think  you  will  all  admit  that."  He  turned  and  looked 
at  the  group  on  the  platform,  and  the  Mayor  nodded 
his  head  affirmatively.  "Yet  there  has  been  some 
criticism.  People  have  called  it  a  family  affair.  They 
say  that  I  am  the  president,  and  my  son  the  traffic- 
manager,  and  my  daughter  the  auditor  and  comptroller. 
Well,  so  we  are  ;  but  if  I  thought  that  anybody  else  could 
do  the  work  of  my  son  and  daughter  better  than  they  do 
it,  for  the  same  money,  I  'd  turn  them  off  to-morrow." 

This  raised  another  laugh,  followed  by  a  turning  of 
heads  and  craning  of  necks.  Evidently  the  traffic- 
manager  and  the  fair  auditor  were  in  the  crowd. 

"  I  see  some  of  you  don't  beheve  that,"  continued 
the  speaker,  with  his  shrewd  sparkle ;  *'  but  I  would. 
I  am  able  to  do  it.     Most  of  you  know  that  I  hold  a 


The  Darlingtons 


controlling  interest  in  the  stock  of  the  H.  P.,  R.,  A.,  and 
S.  Railroad.  I  can  make  or  unmake  any  official.  But 
ask  any  of  these  gentlemen  here  who  hold  stock  if  they 
want  to  sell.  If  they  do  want  to  sell,  ask  them  how 
much  higher  their  figure  is  than  what  they  bought  at. 
Another  thing.  You  have  only  one  railroad,  which 
some  people  claim  is  as  bad  as  a  man's  having  only 
one  leg.  Sometimes  it  is,  I  '11  admit.  But  we  can't 
help  that ;  we  can't  build  another  railroad  for  you  ;  and 
if  we  did,  you  would  be  just  as  badly  off  as  you  are  now. 
But  we  can  do  this :  we  can  make  another  railroad 
unnecessary,  and  we  will.  We  want  to  give  you  just  as 
good  service  as  though  there  were  fifty  competing  lines 
running  into  Ashboro.  If  your  freight  does  n't  come 
through  on  time,  let  us  know;  let  the  traffic-manager 
know;  and  if  he  doesn't  give  you  satisfaction,  let  me 
know.  I  'm  always  in  my  office.  If  our  conductors 
are  not  polite,  or  if  our  engineers  don't  haul  you  as  fast 
as  you  want  to  go,  go  to  the  ticket-office  and  get  your 
money  back.  (More  laughter.)  If  the  ticket- agent  gives 
it  back,  you  can  have  it. 

'•  One  word  about  this  building.  It  was  built  by 
Ashboro  contractors  and  Ashboro  labor,  as  far  as  pos- 
sible. Not  a  dollar  went  out  of  town  that  I  could  keep 
in.  There  is  not  another  city  of  six  thousand  inhabitants 
in  the  United  States  that  has  such  a  station  as  you  are 
going  to  have.  Why,  you  can  entertain  your  city  friends 
in  these  waiting-rooms  when  they  are  done.  Some  of 
the  stockholders  thought  such  a  station  was  too  good 
for  you ;  but  I  told  them  that  I  did  n't  think  anything 
on  earth  was  too  good  for  the  people  of  Ashboro,  and 
they  soon  saw  it  in  that  light,  too." 

This  sly  reference  to  the  notorious  manner  in  which 


The  Penalty  of  Oratory  5 

he  had  ridden  rough-shod  over  the  minority  of  the 
stockholders,  in  the  matter  of  expenditures  on  the  new 
building,  produced  a  broad  smile,  participated  in  by 
the  stockholders  themselves. 

^^As  a  matter  of  fact,  though,"  the  president  con- 
tinued, "it  is  a  httle  finer  than  the  Ashboro  business 
will  warrant,  and  High  Point  and  Rankelman  are  both 
crying  now  for  new  stations.  I  suppose  they  will  have 
to  have  them  some  day.  But  I  don't  think  they  will 
ever  get  one  like  this.  That 's  all  I  have  to  say,  I 
believe ;  and  I  hope  you  will  go  ahead  now  and  enjoy 
yourselves.  Some  of  us  old  fellows  who  can't  drink 
coffee  after  twelve  o'clock  noon  and  sleep  any  that 
night  will  pull  out  early ;  but  you  young  ones  that  want 
more  room  to  dance  in  won't  complain  about  that. 
The  band  here  is  engaged  till  sunrise,  if  you  want  it 
that  long ;  and  if  you  want  it  longer  than  that,  come  up 
to  the  house  and  wake  me  up." 

The  president  made  a  short  bow,  and  turned  away, 
his  thumb  still  in  his  vest  pocket.  Three  cheers  were 
proposed  by  the  Mayor,  and  given  with  a  good  will. 
Then  some  one  called  out,  "  Traffic-manager  ! "  and 
three  cheers  were  given  for  him.  They  were  acknowl- 
edged from  the  floor  by  a  smooth-faced,  clean-looking, 
stylish  young  fellow,  whose  blue  eyes  and  light  hair 
would  scarcely  have  marked  him  as  a  son  of  the  presi- 
dent. He  arose  with  a  httle  self-consciousness,  bowed 
gravely,  and  sat  down  again. 

"  Auditor !  Auditor  ! "  next  called  a  voice.  Three 
more  cheers,  fairly  deafening,  rent  the  air.  The  auditor, 
a  young  woman  with  the  fair  hair  of  a  Swedish  prin* 
cess,  arose  with  a  laugh,  bowed  gracefully,  and  sank  out 
of  sight  again. 


6  The  Darlingtons 

"  Speech !  Speech !  "  shouted  some  one,  and  in- 
stantly the  whole  assembly  took  up  the  cry.  The 
laughter  died  out  of  the  auditor's  eyes,  and  she  shot  a 
quick,  startled  glance  at  her  companion. 

"  You  will  have  to  !  "  said  the  other,  grimly. 

For  an  instant  the  auditor  dropped  her  steady  gray 
eyes  to  the  floor,  as  if  trying  to  think  of  something  to 
say.  For  an  instant  longer  she  bit  her  under  lip,  and 
then  she  promptly  rose,  her  hands  folded  simply  before 
her,  her  cheeks  of  a  slightly  heightened  color. 

"  Platform  !  Platform  !  "  cried  some  insatiable  one, 
and  the  thoughtless  crowd  echoed  the  request.  The 
victim,  courageously  accepting  the  inevitable,  extricated 
herself  from  the  perfumed,  rustling  mesh  around  her  by 
a  sinuous  turn  or  two  of  her  supple  figure,  and  firmly 
marched  toward  the  platform  down  the  aisle  that  opened 
up  for  her. 

She  could  not  have  been  more  than  twenty-two,  but 
something  about  her  subtly  suggested  power.  Her 
beautiful  head,  weighted  with  its  mass  of  tawny  hair, 
was  inclined  modestly  forward ;  but  one  could  not 
escape  the  thought  that  it  could  lift  high  on  occasion. 
Her  eyes  were  directed  straight  ahead  in  a  thoroughly 
businesslike,  impersonal  way,  yet  in  their  depths  there 
lurked  an  amused,  half-quizzical  light,  as  if  she  had 
views  of  her  own  about  such  an  honor  as  this.  Her 
square  chin  denoted  determination,  but  it  at  the  same 
time  guaranteed  the  perpetual  absence  of  peevishness, 
while  a  womanly  sweetness  and  charity  hovered  around 
her  lips.  Moreover,  her  presence  breathed  life  and 
health.  As  she  threaded  the  narrow,  crooked  passage, 
there  was  a  lovableness,  a  good-fellowship,  in  the 
very  sinuosity  of  her  movements ;  and  dignified,  even 


The  Penalty  of  Oratory  7 

queenly,  as  was  her  bearing,  still  there  escaped  from  her 
a  hint  of  suppressed  animal  spirits. 

The  steps  to  the  platform  were  blocked  with  men  and 
boys,  five  rows  deep,  who  slowly  loosened  up  to  make 
way  for  Miss  DarHngton.  But  she  did  not  wait.  She 
whispered  something  in  one  man's  ear,  and  he  quickly 
rose  and  placed  his  chair  close  to  the  platform.  Gath- 
ering her  skirts  in  her  hand  with  a  swift,  sweeping  motion, 
she  stepped  lightly  on  to  the  chair,  and  thence  to  the 
platform,  with  a  grace  and  modesty  unimpeachable. 
She  faced  the  audience  as  coolly  as  her  father  had 
faced  it,  save  for  a  little  stiffness  around  the  lips,  and 
a  very  little  defiance  in  her  eyes,  which  may  have 
sprung  from  fright. 

"  My  friends,"  she  began,  in  a  clear,  boyish  tenor 
that  penetrated  to  the  farthest  corner  of  the  big  room, 
"  I  am  not  an  orator."  She  paused.  Simple  and  con- 
ventional as  were  the  words,  there  were  a  sturdiness 
and  an  honesty  in  her  tones  that  instantly  captivated 
the  fancy  of  her  audience.  Doubtless,  also,  the  cour- 
age required  of  a  woman  to  suddenly  face  such  an 
assemblage  with  tranquillity  won  the  sympathy  and 
admiration  of  more  than  one.  As  a  consequence, 
when  the  girl  leaned  slightly  forward,  before  resuming, 
with  a  half  confidential  air,  which  was  as  eloquent  as  it 
was  unstudied,  her  hearers  sympathetically  met  her  half- 
way, as  it  were,  by  their  perfect  silence. 

*'  I  don't  know  that  I  have  anything  to  say,"  she  con- 
tinued, simply,  but  with  dignity,  "  except  to  thank  you 
for  this  honor,  and  to  say  that  I  am  glad  to  see  so  many 
of  you  here  to-night  in  response  to  our  public  invitation. 
It  is  a  rather  dehcate  subject  to  touch  upon,  but  your 
presence  seems  to  me   to  indicate  that  there   is   not 


8  The  Darlingtons 

very  much  hard  feeling,  in  spite  of  what  has  been 
sometimes  said,  between  the  railroad  and  the  people. 
I  am  sure  that  we,  the  officials  of  the  road,  have  never 
intentionally  injured  any  one  of  you ;  and  I  don't  be- 
lieve that  many  of  you  have  ever  intentionally  injured 
us  —  except  me,  when  you  made  me  get  up  here  to- 
night to  speak. 

''  My  father  has  said  about  all  there  is  to  say  from  the 
railroad's  point  of  view  —  and  of  course  that  is  my  point 
of  view,"  she  added,  smiling.  "  Yet  not  exclusively  so, 
I  trust.  It  is  quite  necessary  for  us  to  take  a  look  at 
things  now  and  then  from  other  people's  point  of  view. 
My  father  told  the  simple  truth  when  he  said  that  the 
railroad  had  been  run  in  the  interests  of  the  people,  for 
their  interests  are  ours.  We  always  try  to  remember 
that  —  not  from  philanthropic  motives,  as  my  father  told 
you,  but  as  a  business  policy. 

"  I  don't  know  what  more  I  can  say.  Personally,  I 
shall  always  try  to  be  pleasant  with  any  of  you  who  may 
have  business  with  me ;  and  if  I  receive  any  vouchers 
for  a  refund  of  ticket  money,  on  account  of  conductors' 
ill  behavior  or  slow  trains,  as  my  father  hinted,  I  shall 
promptly  O.  K.  them.  I  shall  be  especially  guarded  in 
my  official  behavior  now  that  I  have  learned  that  the  axe 
of  discharge  is  hanging  over  my  head  the  same  as  over 
any  other  employe's.  Up  to  ten  minutes  ago  I  had 
supposed  that  I  had  wheedled  my  father  into  giving  me 
my  position.  It  seems  that  I  was  mistaken.  But  if  I 
should  unwittingly  offend  the  president,  and  thus 
jeopardize  my  position,  I  herewith  bespeak  in  my  be- 
half the  good  offices  of  the  other  stockholders  of  the 
road  and  the  public  in  general.  In  return  I  shall  be 
happy  to  do  everything  in  my  power,  officially  and  per- 


The  Penalty  of  Oratory  9 

sonally,  for  your  welfare  and  —  and  happiness."  For  a 
moment  she  stood  silent,  in  just  the  least  embarrass- 
ment, though  her  clear  blue  eyes  never  faltered.  Then 
she  added,  with  a  slight  flush,  as  if  conscious  of  an  anti- 
climax in  her  ending,  "  I  don't  know  that  I  can  close 
with  a  more  pleasing  promise  than  that,  and  I  wish  you 
all  enjoyment  during  the  rest  of  the  evening."  She 
retreated  a  step,  and  bowed  low ;  whereupon  the 
assembly  responded  with  long  applause. 

When  Carol  Darlington  entered  her  room,  about  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  she  found  her  younger  sister, 
Ruth,  there,  swathed  in  a  flannel  robe  and  buried  in  the 
depths  of  a  big  leather  chair  before  the  grate  fire,  with 
a  book  in  her  hand. 

''  Go  to  bed,  Babe,"  said  Carol,  with  the  authority  of 
a  five  years'  seniority.  She  threw  her  long  tan  coat 
across  a  chair,  and  mechanically  pressed  her  heavy 
coils  of  hair  up  from  her  neck,  after  which  she  stood 
warming  her  hands. 

"  I  'm  not  sleepy.  Let  me  stay  until  you  undress," 
answered  Ruth,  with  the  air  of  one  announcing  her  in- 
tentions rather  than  begging  a  favor.  "  Your  speech 
was  lovely,  sis." 

"Get  out !  "  said  Carol,  without  Hfting  her  eyes. 

''I  heard  lots  of  comphments,"  continued  Ruth,  en- 
thusiastically. "  Old  man  Taylor  said  that,  if  his  daugh- 
ters could  speak  like  that  off-hand,  he  'd  send  them  off 
to  college  to-morrow." 

"The  old  miser!  "  said  Carol,  scornfully. 

''  Well,  they  are  pluggy,"  ventured  Ruth,  in  the  old 
man's  defence. 

"  Pluggy  1  "  Carol  lifted  her  eyes  admonishingly. 


lo  The  Darlingtons 

"  Scrubby,"  corrected  Ruth. 

"So  is  their  father  —  and  their  mother." 

"  Were  n't  you  scared  ? "  asked  the  other,  after  a 
pause. 

"  Stiff,"  said  Carol. 

"  You  did  n't  look  it,"  declared  Ruth,  admiringly. 

"  Did  n't  I  ?  "  asked  Carol,  in  a  tone  which  implied 
that  she  was  very  well  aware  of  that  fact. 

Ruth  stole  a  wondering  glance  at  her  sister's  haughty 
profile.  Something  had  evidently  gone  wrong  at  the 
ball.  Carol's  lips  were  very  straight  now,  without  that 
lovable  droop  ;  her  chin  was  set  hard,  and  the  blue 
eyes  had  turned  to  gray.  Ruth  was  mightily  curious, 
but  the  most  she  dared  do  was  to  prolong  the  conver- 
sation in  the  hope  that  Carol  might  see  fit  to  confess. 
"  Papa  was  a  regular  whale,  wasn't  he  ?  "  she  exclaimed, 
as  though  the  thought  had  just  struck  her. 

Carol's  eyes  again  flashed  reproof  at  this  bit  of  slang, 
and  then  she  burst  into  a  laugh.  "  Papa  is  a  first-class 
hypocrite,"  said  she.  "  He  spread  around  more  honey 
there  to-night  than  he  has  handled  in  ten  years  before. 
You  can  imagine  it  was  n't  any  fun  for  him.  He  would 
sooner  have  been  whipped."  She  sank  down  on  the 
arm  of  the  chair,  and  shook  with  laughter. 

"  Didn^t  he  spread  it  on  thick?  "  cried  Ruth. 

"And  so  sweet  and  smiling  that  sugar  wouldn't 
have  melted  in  his  mouth,"  added  Carol,  husky  from 
mirth. 

"  And  never  took  his  thumb  out  of  his  vest  pocket 
the  whole  time  !  "  shrieked  Ruth. 

"  As  though  he  was  afraid  somebody  might  steal  his 
watch !  " 

Convulsed  with  laughter,  Carol  let  herself  sink  down 


The  Penalty  of  Oratory  1 1 

on  top  of  Ruth,  threatening  that  young  lady,  who  was 
also  convulsed,  with  suffocation. 

"And  not  —  not  ten  minutes  after  —  after  he  had 
said  this  was  the  happiest  hour  of  his  life  —  "  gasped 
Ruth. 

"  Oh,  he  did  n't  say  that  /"  whimpered  Carol,  weakly. 

"  —  I  heard  him  tell  old  man  Briggs  that  he  —  that 
he  —  that  he  —  could  n't  —  " 

"Well,  choke!"  said  Carol,  as  Ruth  gave  alarming 
evidence  of  doing  that  thing. 

a  —  that  he  couldn't  get  out  of  that  confoimded 
hubbub  too  quick !  '^ 

For  a  moment  perfect  silence  reigned,  —  the  delusive 
silence  that  interlards  a  very  young  baby's  blasts  of 
temper,  when  breath  is  at  a  premium.  The  mass  of 
hair  and  dress-stuff  in  the  big  chair  shook  for  a  few 
seconds,  the  two  heads  rolled  around  helplessly,  and 
then  shriek  after  shriek  of  hysterical  laughter  filled  the 
room. 

"We'll  wake  the  house,"  said  Carol,  sobering  up. 
She  rose,  and  pressed  her  aching  sides.  "You  must 
go  to  bed." 

"  All  right,"  said  Ruth,  promptly  jumping  up,  as 
though  she  knew  just  how  far  she  could  safely  resist 
her  sisters  will.  "Say,  what  did  you  think  of  Rose 
Blumenthal's  costume?"  she  asked. 

It  was  a  shrewd  guess.  Carol  stopped  in  the  middle 
of  unbinding  her  hair,  and  looked  haughty  again.  "  I 
thought  it  was  downright  vulgar,"  said  she,  emphatically. 
"  I  would  n't  go  to  the  most  exclusive  ball  ever  given  in 
this  town  in  such  a  gown.  People  don't  wear  them 
here.  And  to  go  down  there  to  that  pubhc  affair, 
where    every  Tom,   Dick,  and   Harry  could  come,  in 


12  The  Darlingtons 

that  costume,  I  think,  was  simply  abominable.  I  think 
Lucy  was  a  little  ashamed  of  her  city  friend,  for  once. 
And  then  Rose  had  the  effrontery  to  tell  me  that  so 
many  long  sleeves  and  high  necks  reminded  her  of  her 
school-girl  days.  I  had  a  notion  to  tell  her  that  they 
reminded  me  of  a  saving  sense  of  propriety." 

"I  suppose  she  said  that  just  to  let  herself  down 
easily,"  said  Ruth,  shrewdly.  "  She  must  have  felt 
out  of  place.'^ 

"  I  should  think  so." 

"  What  did  Cash  Winter  say  about  her?  " 

"  He  did  n't  say  anything/'  answered  Carol.  "  Why 
should  he?" 

^'  He  danced  with  her  three  times,"  said  Ruth,  vaguely. 

"  That  was  a  very  good  reason  why  he  should  not  say 
anything.  He  danced  three  times  with  me,  but  I  hope 
he  did  n't  go  off  and  talk  about  me." 

"  He  could  n't.  He  did,  though,"  she  added,  brightly. 
Her  sister  wilfully  refused  to  ask  what  had  been  said, 
upon  which  Ruth  continued,  "  He  told  me  you  were  the 
best  dancer  on  the  floor." 

"  Knowing,  very  likely,  that  you  would  come  straight 
to  me  with  it,"  said  Carol,  carelessly,  but  softening. 

"  That 's  mean,"  said  Ruth,  stoutly.  "  And  he  's  so 
good  to  you." 

''^Well,  if  it's  mean,  I  take  it  back.  It  is  mean. 
Cash  is  not  a  flatterer.  Trot,  now  !  I  am  deathly  tired. 
Dancing  is  beginning  to  pall  on  me." 


CHAPTER   II 

AN  UNCANONICAL  CONFESSOR 

Carol  did  not  go  to  bed  at  once,  in  spite  of  her  fatigue. 
The  big  chair  and  the  ruddy  glow  of  the  cannel-coal 
fire  tempted  her ;  and  shpping  into  a  dressing-gown, 
she  sat  down  for  a  minute,  late  as  it  was.  She  thought 
of  their  new  building,  and  wondered  if,  after  all,  as  some 
of  the  stockholders  held,  it  wasn't  too  good  for  the 
business ;  she  wondered  if  it  was  not,  as  had  been 
charged,  a  pet  project  of  her  father's.  She  smiled  as 
she  called  to  mind  her  father's  caustic  denunciation  of 
the  stockholders'  penny-wise-pound-foolish  policy,  but 
wondered  if  he  had  not,  in  his  ambition,  somewhat 
deceived  himself  Still,  he  ought  to  know.  He  had 
had  to  do  with  railroads  all  his  Hfe.  She  wondered  next 
just  how  she  should  arrange  her  new  office.  There 
should  be  nothing  womanish  about  it,  she  resolved. 
It  should  be  just  as  business-like  as  any  man  would 
have  had  it.  A  little  later,  following  out  her  career, 
she  was  picturing  herself  a  gray-haired  woman,  the 
president  of  the  road.  Her  father  would  be  very  proud 
of  her,  and  she  smiled  until  she  recalled  that  he  would 
very  likely  be  dead  by  that  time.  This  brought  her 
back  to  the  present. 

Miss  Blumenthal's  daring  costume  next  occupied  her 
mind.     The   dark-haired  young  Jewess  had  certainly 


14  The  Darlingtons 

looked  magnificent.  Her  arms  and  neck  were  superb ; 
nobody  could  deny  that.  Cash  Winter  ^ad  said  some- 
thing about  the  young  woman,  indirectly.  As  he  passed 
Carol  on  the  floor  he  had  made  some  joking  remark 
about  the  children  of  Israel.  The  import  of  it  she  did 
not  quite  catch,  and  for  reasons  of  her  own  she  did  not 
care  to  ask  him  to  repeat  it,  though  he  had  walked  home 
with  her ;  but  she  had  taken  his  words  to  be  quasi- 
complimentary.  She  wondered  if  he  had  failed  to 
detect  the  incongruity  of  the  young  Jewess's  costume. 
Men,  she  knew,  were  often  incredibly  insensible  to  such 
things.  After  a  moment,  she  slowly  pushed  her  loose 
sleeve  up  toward  her  shoulder,  baring  her  own  firm, 
white  arm.  She  looked  a  moment,  and  then  pulled 
the  sleeve  down  again,  rather  quickly,  and  with  a  slight 
flush.  She  had  bared  that  arm  many  a  time  in  ball- 
rooms, before  scores  of  people,  without  flushing ;  but 
it  had  not  been  then  with  the  thought  of  rivaling 
another's  charms. 

After  she  got  to  bed,  the  sandman  held  aloof.  She 
got  to  thinking  about  her  brother  Herbert,  and  wonder- 
ing where  he  could  be,  for  he  had  left  the  ball  before 
herself.  He  had  a  habit  of  lingering  at  Elsie  Clifford's 
house,  but  he  could  hardly  be  doing  that  now,  at  such 
an  hour.  Then  she  was  dimly  conscious  of  hearing  the 
front  door  softly  close.  She  had  half  forgotten  it,  when 
there  came  a  tap  on  her  door. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked,  softly,  knowing  it  must  be 
her  brother. 

"May  I  come  in?"  he  asked. 

"Yes." 

He  slipped  in,  and  closed  the  door  gently.  "  Asleep  ?  " 
he  asked. 


An  Uncanonical  Confessor         15 

"Yes,"  said  she,  playfully. 

"I  want  to  talk  to  you  awhile,"  said  he,  advancing  to 
the  side  of  the  bed.  '^  I  could  n't  sleep  now  if  I  went 
to  bed.'' 

"  If  you  can't  sleep,  by  all  means  work  off  your  in- 
somnia in  here,"  said  she,  with  her  light  mockery. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  listen?"  he  asked,  halting  in  the 
dull  light  of  the  fire,  with  his  hand  on  the  electric  bulb. 

"Of  course,  foolishness,"  she  answered,  and  he 
snapped  on  the  light,  revealing  his  sister  buried  to 
the  throat  in  the  bed-clothes.  With  her  head  snug- 
gled into  a  nest  in  the  pillow,  and  the  loose  short  hairs 
around  her  ears  floating  down  over  her  cheek,  she 
looked  up  at  him  with  a  cozy  gleam  in  her  eyes.  His 
face,  as  the  lamp-light  fell  on  it,  showed  flushed  and 
excited ;  and  though  he  looked  very  fine  and  hand- 
some, Carol's  expression  changed. 

''  Bert,  you  have  n't  been  —  down  town  ?  "  she  asked, 
soberly. 

"  No,  no,"  said  he,  hastily. 

"  Forgive  me,  brother,"  she  said.  '^  But  where  on 
earth  ^ave  you.  been?  You  haven't  been  keeping  that 
girl  up  till  this  hour?  "  she  asked,  severely. 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  he  answered,  without  the  least  remorse. 

"  O  woman  !  Surely  thou  art  made  of  the  long-suf- 
fering stuff  that  angels  are  !  "  she  declaimed.  "  Bert 
Darhngton,  you  are  a  monster !  Do  you  know  what 
time  her  grandfather  insists  on  having  breakfast  ?  Six- 
thirty  !  Three  and  a  half  hours  hence  I  Elsie  is  too 
easy.     She  ought  to  have  dismissed  you  at  the  door." 

"Carol,'*  said  Bert,  abruptly,  "Elsie  has  promised 
to  become  my  wife  !  " 

He  looked  at  his  sister  with  an  expression  that  was 


1 6  The  Darlingtons 

almost  appealing  in  its  intensity.  She  took  the  matter 
more  coolly,  and  her  blue  eyes,  though  a  httle  rounder 
now,  shone  up  from  the  pillow  with  the  tranquillity  of 
twin  stars.  Then  she  freed  her  arms  from  the  covers, 
and  held  out  both  hands  to  Herbert  with  a  smile. 
"  I  wish  you  both,  brother,  all  the  happiness  in  the 

world." 

"Are  you  surprised?"  he  asked,  soberly. 
"  Why  should  I  be  surprised?"  she  asked  back,  with 
a  vein  of  subtle  tenderness  in  her  voice.  "  I  think  you 
the  best  man  in  the  world,  and  Elsie  the  best  woman. 
Besides,"  she  added,  with  her  bantering  smile,  "a. 
woman  'would  promise  a  man  almost  anything  at  three 
A.  M.  when  she  has  to  get  up  at  six." 

Bert  smiled  a  httle,  but  said  gravely,  *'  Don't  joke, 
Carol.     I  'm  in  no  mood  for  it  now." 

His  sister  dropped  her  lashes  thoughtfully,  but  she 
still  insisted  on  not  taking  matters  too  seriously,  and  a 
little  shadowy  smile  still  played  around  the  corners  of 
her  pretty  mouth.  Her  brother  watched  her  closely, 
still  retaining  her  hands  in  his. 

''Well,  Bert,  Elsie  will  make  a  sister  that  I  shall 
never  be 'ashamed  of,"  said  Carol,  after  a  moment. 

"  She  will  make  a  sister  that  you  can  always  be  proud 
of,"  said  Bert,  impetuously.  "I  won't  say  a  word 
about  her  nobility  —  you  know  how  noble  she  is  —  but 
there  is  n't  a  girl  in  this  town  that  could  carry  herself 
with  more  grace  in  any  conceivable  situation  than  Elsie 
—  unless  it 's  yourself.  She  will  be  an  ornament  to  any 
society.  Yet  she  is  as  domestic  and  simple-hearted 
and  true  as  she  can  be,  and  that  is  what  counts.  And 
she's  as  tender  and  affectionate  as  a  baby."  He 
paused,  as  if  to  allow  Carol  to  corroborate  these  sen- 


An  Uncanonical  Confessor         17 

timents;  but  as  she  said  nothing,  he  added,  in  a 
slightly  altered  tone,  "  We  've  decided  to  keep  our 
engagement  a  secret  for  a  while." 

"  Is  that  the  reason  you  told  me?"  she  asked,  look- 
ing up  with  a  whimsical  glance. 

"  I  could  n't  help  it,"  he  confessed,  boyishly.  ^'I  had 
to  tell  somebody.  I  could  n't  have  slept  a  wink  to- 
night if  I  hadn't." 

Carol  smiled  again,  perhaps  with  a  trifle  of  superior- 
ity, though  Bert  was  two  years  her  senior,  and  cast  a 
droll  glance  at  the  Japanese  clock  above  the  fireplace. 
''As  it  is,  you  will  now  have  time  for  two  or  three 
winks,"  she  said,  slyly. 

"  I  will  tell  her  to-morrow  that  I  told  you,"  con- 
tinued Bert,  too  full  of  the  subject  to  heed  her  joke. 
'*  Then  I  want  you  to  go  up  there  and  talk  it  over  with 
her.  A  good  deal  of  our  happiness  depends  on  you,  in 
some  ways,  Carol,"  he  added,  with  the  anxious  look  which 
had  clouded  his  face  several  times  before.  "It  isn't 
going  to  be  all  smooth  sailing  for  us.  If  I  were  n't "  — 
He  broke  off  abruptly.  Whatever  was  in  his  mind 
was  evidently  also  in  Carol's.  It  was  also  evidently 
something  too  obvious  for  either  of  them  to  pretend  to 
overlook  ;  yet  Carol  would  not  acknowledge  it  by  meet- 
ing his  eye  just  then.  "  I  can't  feel  that  I  have  done 
wrong,  Carol,"  he  continued,  earnestly.  "  I  walked 
home  on  air  to-night.  I  never  felt  so  much  of  a  man 
before  as  I  have  since  winning  her  love.  I  never  felt  in 
all  my  life  so  good  and  so  strong  before ;  and  I  thank 
God  for  his  goodness  in  giving  me  such  a  woman  to 
love,  and  care  for,  and  live  for.  I  can't  fall  again, 
sister,"  he  ran  on,  with  tremulous  eagerness.  "  Some- 
thing tells  me  that  I  can't.     It  would  be  too  cruel. 

2 


1 8  The  Darlingtons 

But  if  I  do,  Carol,  —  if  I  ever,  by  my  brutal  appetite, 
bring  shame  and  sorrow  on  that  dear,  devoted  head,  I 
hope  that  God  will  strike  me  dead." 

He  was  very  solemn  now,  even  tragic.  His  sister, 
none  too  easily  impressed,  looked  up  at  him  with 
glistening  eyes. 

"  I  don't  myself  see  how  you  can  ever  fall  again  now, 
brother,"  she  said  in  a  voice  of  low,  rich  melody. 
"  You  have  so  much  to  live  for.  And  I  don't  believe 
you  will  fall.  In  spite  of  all  the  past,  I  have  faith  in 
you.  I  believe  the  turning-point  has  come.  But, 
brother  dear,"  she  added,  tightening  her  grasp  upon 
his  hands,  "  if  you  think  the  struggle  is  over,  you  will 
be  disappointed.  You  can't  always  float  with  your  head 
in  the  clouds,  as  it  is  now.  But  you  can  always  be 
brave  and  true  to  yourself  —  and  to  her.  It  is  not  an 
impossible  thing.  Thousands  of  men  do  as  much  every 
day,  and  you  can.  And  when  you  are  tempted,  as 
assuredly  you  will  be,  you  will  now  have  more  strength 
to  overcome  the  temptation." 

Bert  rose  from  the  bed  rather  quickly,  and  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets  and  his  eyes  on  the  floor,  paced  to 
and  fro  for  some  moments,  with  a  dark,  brooding  face. 
Then  he  sat  down  again,  with  a  manly  smile.  "  Sis,  we 
won't  mar  this  happy  night  with  such  thoughts.  We 
won't  cross  the  bridge  until  we  come  to  it.  I  wish  you 
could  have  seen  Elsie  to-night  when  I  asked  her  to  marry 
me.  Of  course,  she  had  expected  it.  She  knew  that  I 
loved  her.  She  must  have  decided  it  all  in  advance. 
But  when  I  took  her  hands  in  mine  and  asked  her  to 
become  my  wife,  she  just  nodded  her  head  a  little,  and 
laid  it  on  my  shoulder,  and  whispered,  '  Go  home, 
dear.'     Then  she  began  to  cry.' 


V 


An  Uncanonical  Confessor  19 

Carol  had  listened  with  a  calm,  judicial  face,  but  at 
this  point  her  eyes,  in  spite  of  herself,  grew  misty ;  and 
when  Bert,  lifted  out  of  himself,  as  it  were,  by  her  deli- 
cate sympathy,  added,  "  Great  as  it  was  to  me,  Carol, 
what  must  it  have  been  to  her  ?  "  the  tears  fairly  trembled 
on  her  lashes. 

"  I  don't  know,  brother,"  answered  Carol,  smiling  and 
brushing  the  drops  away,  "  whether  it  could  be  much 
greater." 

"Yes,  it  could,"  said  Bert,  positively.  "  'Love  is  of 
man's  life  a  thing  apart ;  '  t  is  woman's  whole  existence.'  " 

^'  Some  men  and  some  women,"  said  Carol,  quali- 
fyingly. 

"  She  's  one  of  them,"  said  Bert.  "  And  I  Ve  been 
thinking,  sitting  here,  that  while  I,  a  man,  could  not  go 
to  sleep  without  telling  you  all  this,  she  's  up  there  with- 
out a  soul  in  all  the  word  to  open  her  heart  to." 

''  She  could  tell  her  grandmother,  I  suppose,"  said 
Carol. 

"No,"  said  Bert,  with  some  embarrassment.  ''Our 
engagement  is  to  be  kept  a  secret  for  a  while  from  even 
her." 

*'Why?"  asked  Carol,  gravely. 

**  Because  old  man  Clifford  has  no  faith  in  me," 
answered  Bert,  hurriedly. 

For  a  moment  Carol's  eyes  flashed,  but  as  Bert's  head 
drooped  in  shame  and  humility,  she  gave  him  a  loving, 
sorrowful  glance.  "  You  have  held  out  six  months  now," 
she  said,  softly. 

"  Yes,  but  we  '11  wait  a  little  longer,"  answered  Bert, 
patiently.  '^  I  want  to  win  him  over  if  I  can.  If  I  can't, 
I'll  take  her  without  his  permission.  But  that's  a  poor 
way  to  start  our  married  life  ;  and,  meanwhile,  she  would 


20  The  Darlingtons 

have  to  bear  the  brunt  of  his  displeasure.  When  we  do 
tell  him,  we  '11  have  it  fixed  so  that  he  can't  bother  her 
very  long,  if  he  sees  fit  to  try  it.  But  he  has  been  good 
to  her,  in  his  way,  and  I  want  his  permission  if  I  can 
get  it." 

"Yes,  that  is  much  better,"  said  Carol,  wisely. 

Bert  smoothed  away  at  the  coverHd  with  his  hand,  at 
first  preoccupiedly,  but  finally  with  as  much  purpose  as 
though  something  momentous  depended  upon  his  mak- 
ing a  good  job  of  it.  Evidently  something  further  was 
on  his  mind,  and  Carol  watched  him  curiously.  Suddenly 
he  pressed  both  his  hands  to  his  face  and  exclaimed 
brokenly,  "  Carol,  she  's  the  dearest,  sweetest,  noblest 
woman  that  ever  lived,  and  I  am  not  fit  for  her." 

"  Don't  disparage  yourself  too  much,"  said  Carol, 
with  her  worldly-wise  smoothness,  but  with  a  great  deal 
of  tenderness  in  addition.  "  Elsie  is  probably  doing  the 
same  thing  this  minute,  unless  she 's  sound  asleep.  It 's 
a  way  right-minded  young  people  have  under  these  cir- 
cumstances. If  you  are  not  fit,  make  yourself  fit.  That 's 
what  she  will  do." 

^'  I  never  saw  her  look  as  beautiful  as  she  did  to-night," 
said  Bert,  after  a  Httle,  recovering  himself.  ''Do  you 
know,  her  type  of  beauty  is  my  ideal." 

*'  Quite  likely,"  said  Carol,  with  a  glint  of  humor. 
"There  are  young  men,  though,  who  are  quite  as  fond 
of  the  blue-eyed,  light-haired  type." 

'^  You  are  jealous,  sis,"  said  Bert,  smiling  and  kissing 
her  good-night.  "  Not  a  word  to  father  or  mother  or 
Ruth,  yet,"  he  added.  He  turned  out  the  light,  but 
still  lingered,  and  at  the  door  he  asked,  with  some  hesi- 
tation, "  Carol, is  there  anything  between  you  and  Cash?  " 

"What's  coming  now?"  she  asked,  alertly. 


An  Uncanonical  Confessor         21 

"  Is  there  ?  "  he  repeated. 

'^  No,"  she  answered. 

"Is  there  Hkely  to  be?" 

"  Forecasting  the  future  is  ahvays  a  deHcate  task," 
answered  Carol,  without  the  slightest  embarrassment  in 
her  voice.  "  But  in  this  case  1  can  do  it  with  the  great- 
est confidence.     There  is  not." 

''  I  am  glad  of  it,"  said  Bert,  promptly. 

"Why?"  she  asked  tartly. 

"  Not  that  I  censure  you  for  letting  him  come  here, 
as  a  friend,  or  mean  to  impugn  your  taste.  Not  that  he 
is  n't  as  good  as  most  of  the  fellows,  or  better.  But,  my 
dear,  he  is  not  good  enough  for  you." 

^'  Have  you  and  Elsie  been  talking  this  over?"  asked 
Carol,  sharply. 

''No,  on  my  honor,  no,"  answered  Herbert. 

*'Well,  I  thank  you,  brother,"  said  Carol,  with  mock 
humility. 

"  He  could  never  satisfy  you,  Carol.  You  would  grow 
tired  of  him  in  six  months." 

"  Herbert,  I  never  suspected  such  penetration  in  you," 
she  declared,  ironically. 

"  When  you  marry,  you  want  a  mental  Samson  to 
keep  you  straight,"  added  Bert ;  and  Carol  fancied  he 
was  now  smiling. 

'^  Cash  could  hardly  pose  as  a  Samson,  I  suppose," 
she  answered.  "  He  has  n't  hair  enough,  for  one  thing. 
Have  you  any  such  character  in  mind  for  me  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  laughed,  "  but  I  '11  keep  my  eye  open." 

"  Do  so,"  said  Carol,  sleepily.  ''  Meanwhile,  if  you 
have  no  objection,  I  '11  close  mine  for  an  hour  or  two. 
Good-night." 


CHAPTER  III 

SOME  MUTUAL  DIPLOMACY 

Carol  got  down  in  the  morning  a  little  after  half-past 
eight,  the  Darlingtons'  breakfast  hour,  and  found  the 
others  already  at  table.  Her  dark  woollen  gown  gave 
her  a  rather  subdued  appearance,  yet  she  showed  to 
better  advantage,  after  her  dissipation,  than  either  Ruth 
or  her  brother,  both  of  whom  looked  rather  washed 
out. 

"  Papa,  I  congratulate  you  on  your  effort  last  night," 
said  Carol,  stopping  behind  her  father's  chair.  "  I 
wanted  to  do  it  last  night,  only  I  missed  you  in  the 
hubbub."  Ruth  snickered,  but  the  others  of  course 
failed  to  see  the  point. 

"  You  liked  it,  did  you  ?  "  asked  her  father,  laying 
down  his  paper.  "  Your  mother  thought  it  was  a  little 
egotistical." 

"Why,  mamma  ! "  exclaimed  Carol,  laughing.  "Just 
as  though  papa  could  be." 

Mr.  Darlington  smiled  in  his  shrewd,  non-committal 
way,  like  a  man  used  to  this  kind  of  thing,  and  seemed 
to  enjoy  it.  Mrs.  Darlington,  a  robust,  healthy-looking 
woman,  who  had  by  no  means  relinquished  all  her 
youthful  charms,  said  quietly :  "  I  said,  Charles,  that 
some  people  might  think  it  egotistical.  But  I  did  not. 
I  suppose  that,  no  matter  what  you  might  have  said, 
somebody  would  misconstrue  it." 


Some  Mutual  Diplomacy  23 

^'Who  cares,  mamma?"  said  Ruth,  in  a  voice  fla- 
vored with  buckwheat  cakes  and  maple  syrup. 

"  You  thought  I  was  a  litde  cynical,  though,  Winny," 
returned  Darlington. 

"No,"  answered  his  wife,  "only  a  litde  insincere  —  a 
little  too  adulatory." 

"If  papa  was  adulatory,  what  was  Carol?"  asked 
Ruth,  mischievously. 

"  That 's  what,  Ruth,"  said  her  father,  with  a  favoring 
smile  at  his  champion. 

"You  must  all  remember  that  papa  had  stolen  my 
thunder,"  laughed  Carol.  "  That  is,  not  foreseeing  any 
need  of  it  myself,  I  had  given  it  to  him." 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Darlington,  dissentingly. 
"  I  don't  remember  of  especially  asking  you  for  any 
pointers  for  that  speech." 

"  Papa  Darlington  !  "  exclaimed  Carol,  astounded,  or 
affecting  to  be  ;  and  even  Ruth,  her  father's  self-elected 
champion,  burst  into  a  delighted  laugh  at  this  piece  of 
unblushing  mendacity ;  for  it  was  a  matter  of  family 
knowledge  that  Carol  had  helped  her  father  in  a  way 
with  his  speech,  just  as  she  helped  him  in  a  way  with 
almost  every  affair  of  the  railroad. 

"  Well,  now,  what  did  you  tell  me  ?  Be  specific ! " 
blustered  Darlington,  but  with  a  twinkle  that  betrayed 
his  cause. 

"  What  did  n't  I  tell  you?  "  retorted  Carol.  "  I  sus- 
pect you  have  some  of  those  notes  I  made  for  you  in 
your  coat  pocket  now." 

"  Notes  !  "  scoffed  her  father ;  "  merely  some  old 
letters." 

"  Suppose  you  show  them,  papa,  just  to  convince 
her,"  suggested  R,uth,  with  a  sly  glance  at  Carol. 


24  The  Darlingtons 

"  I  would,"  said  Darlington,  lightly,  "  only  there  's 
one  or  two  of  those  letters  that  I  should  n't  want  your 
mother  to  see." 

"  I  saw  Willie  Stymist  trying  to  report  your  speech 
in  short-hand  last  night,"  said  Carol,  more  seriously. 
"  For  the  I?ttelligencer^  I  suppose.  He  *s  working  there 
now.  If  your  speech  survives  that  ordeal,  it  is  likely 
to  go  down  to  posterity." 

"  Willie  Stymist ! "  repeated  her  father,  not  just 
pleased.  "  I  did  n't  see  him  there.  I  guess  he 
was  n't  reporting  my  speech." 

"  Yes,  he  was,"  said  Herbert,  conclusively. 

"  I  don't  know  what  he  wanted  to  do  that  for,"  said 
Mr.  Darlington,  uncomfortably. 

"  He  probably  wanted  it  for  the  paper,  papa,"  said 
Carol,  sweetly,  "  as  I  remarked  before.  Unless  he 
wanted  it  as  an  example  of  exquisite  English,"  she 
added,  teasingly.     "  I  wonder  if  he  reported  mine  ? " 

"Oh,  certainly  —  and  for  the  same  purpose,"  ob- 
served Ruth,  ironically. 

"  I  am  sure  Carol  did  very  well  under  the  circum- 
stances," said  Mrs.  Darlington,  who  always  took  a  joke 
too  seriously.  "  Everybody  spoke  of  how  cool  and 
self-possessed  she  was.  I  believe  she  was  even  cooler 
than  her  father."  She  glanced  half-playfully  at  her 
husband,  but  for  some  reason  or  other  he  had  fallen 
into  a  brown  study,  and  took  no  notice  of  this  remark. 

"She  *s  always  cool  enough,"  said  Ruth. 

''I  didn't  feel  exactly  cool,  though,  mamma,"  said 
Carol,  ignoring  Ruth's  thrust.  "  And  I  'm  afraid  it 
wasn't  much  of  a  speech." 

"  It  was  n't  much  of  an  occasion,  my  dear,"  answered 
her  mother. 


Some  Mutual  Diplomacy  25 

Mr.  Darlington  continued  to  confine  himself  silently 
to  his  plate,  while  the  others  indulged  in  an  irregular 
cross-fire  about  the  happenings  of  the  night  before,  not 
missing  Rose  Blumenthal's  costume,  in  which  Bert,  to 
the  disgust  of  his  sisters,  saw  nothing  out  of  the  way. 
Finally  Mrs.  Darlington  said,  "  Herbert,  you  are  not 
eating  much  this  morning." 

"  I  am  not  hungry,"  he  answered,  briefly,  quickly 
taking  a  sip  of  coffee.  Certainly  his  face  turned  red, 
but  nobody  seemed  to  notice  it  except  Carol,  who 
smiled  with  a  knowingness  that  Bert  considered  almost 
a  breach  of  confidence.  He  frowned  blackly  at  her, 
when  he  had  a  chance,  and  she  partly  straightened 
her  face. 

"What  time  did  you  get  in,  anyway,  last  night?" 
asked  Carol,  quizzically. 

*'  About  half-past  two,"  he  murmured. 

"What  did  Elsie  think  of  the  affair  — the  ball?"  she 
continued,  with  an  impish  gleam  in  her  eye. 

"  She  enjoyed  it,  I  think,"  he  answered,  stiffly. 

"  I  did  n't  know,"  said  his  sister,  innocently.  "  It  was 
so  public.     I  thought  you  and  she  left  rather  early." 

"  It  was  nearly  two  when  we  left, "  he  answered,  giv- 
ing her  another  admonishing  glare.  ''I  shouldn't  call 
it  very  early." 

Before  going  down  to  the  office,  Carol  walked  out  to 
the  stable  —  a  building  that  many  people  might  have 
envied  for  a  home  —  and  let  herself  into  one  of  the 
box-stalls,  which  was  occupied  by  a  white-footed,  white- 
nosed  sorrel  mare.  The  animal  gave  a  whinny  of  rec- 
ognition at  the  sound  of  the  girl's  footsteps,  and  thrust 
her  nose  affectionately  forward.  Carol  patted  the  glossy 
neck,  and  rubbed  her  own  cheek  against  the  mare's. 


26  The  Darlingtons 


a 


Well,  Footsy  girl  ! "  she  exclaimed,  in  a  petting 
voice.  "Do  you  love  me  this  morning?  How  much 
do  you  love  me  this  morning?  Quick  !  How  many 
bushels?"  The  mare  slowly  struck  the  floor  ten  times 
with  her  hoof.  "  Only  ten  bushels  !  Now  kiss  me  ! " 
She  held  up  her  hand,  and  the  mare  thrust  out  her 
tongue  twice  or  thrice  and  licked  the  white  surface  pre- 
sented. "  Tom  !  How  is  Whitefoot's  hoof  this  morn- 
ing?" she  called  to  the  hostler.  She  bent  to  see  for 
herself,  but  the  light  was  rather  dim.  She  laid  her 
hand  upon  the  fetlock,  and  the  well-trained  animal 
instantly  raised  her  hoof. 

"  It 's  better,  ma  'am,"  said  the  hostler,  appearing  at 
the  door.  "  That  verdigris  is  fetchin'  her  around. 
The  only  trouble  is  the  roads  is  so  hard  she  breaks  it 
out  again  as  fast  as  it  heals." 

"  Well,  I  won't  exercise  her  for  a  day  or  two,"  said 
the  girl,  with  a  farewell  pat.  "  It  wouldn't  hurt,  Tom, 
to  shut  that  window  at  night,  after  this.     It 's  cold." 

Her  father  was  waiting  at  the  gate  for  her,  puffing 
away  on  his  Havana.  Herbert,  as  usual,  had  gone 
ahead.  The  new  general-office  building,  a  little  gem 
of  Venetian  architecture,  two  stories  high  only,  sparkled 
in  the  bright  sunlight  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  a  block  and 
a  half  distant.  Mr.  Darlington's  eyes  sparkled  fondly 
back  upon  the  building,  just  as  they  had  every  morning 
from  the  time  the  walls  had  gone  up. 

"  Pretty  smooth,  Carol !  "  said  he,  admiringly. 

"  Pretty  smooth,  papa  !  "  she  answered,  adopting  his 
slang. 

"  How  would  it  do  to  have  some  genuine  electric 
lights  in  that  string  of  cars,  set  in  behind  some  way,  and 
turned  on  at  night? ''  he  asked,  pausing  and  glancing  at 


Some  Mutual  Diplomacy  27 

the  bas-relief  work  of  locomotive  and  cars,  just  above 
the  second-story  windows. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  never  thought  of  it.  We  might 
talk  it  over,"  said  Carol.  This  was  one  of  her  ways  of 
checking  his  extravagance. 

They  did  not  go  into  the  new  building,  but  walked 
on  down  to  the  old  office-building,  a  block  further. 
Here  Carol  stopped,  but  Mr.  Darlington,  after  seeing 
that  the  moving  of  the  furniture  to  the  new  building  was 
under  way,  strolled  on  down-town. 

He,  like  his  son,  was  a  well-dressed  man.  He  had 
that  intangible  thing  called  style,  which  no  tailor  can 
either  give  or  take  away.  One  felt  it  as  quickly  as 
one  entered  his  presence.  One  recognized  it  in  the 
simple  drawing-on  of  his  glove,  in  the  angle  at  which  he 
carried  his  cane.  It  was  suggested  even  by  the  motion 
of  his  coat-tails  as  he  walked.  So  upright  was  his  bear- 
ing that  one  would  not  have  suspected  him  of  being,  as 
he  was,  an  inch  shorter  than  his  son.  One  might  have 
called  him  soldierly  had  it  not  been  for  a  kind  of  springy 
jauntiness  in  his  carriage.  His  vest  line  was  deflected 
outward  in  a  graceful,  prosperity-suggesting  curve,  but 
he  was  not  fat  or  paunchy. 

Handsome  he  was,  too.  His  black  hair  and  side- 
whiskers  were  without  a  streak  of  gray.  His  skin  was 
white  and  smooth,  even  on  his  chin,  where  it  had  been 
shaved  over  for  years.  His  dark-brown,  oblong  eyes 
were  perpetually  laughing,  which  led  some  people  into 
the  mistake  that  he  was  always  laughing.  But  the  most 
striking  feature  by  all  odds  about  his  face  was  his  nose, 
which  was  as  white,  smooth,  and  exquisitely  chiselled  as 
a  thing  in  marble. 

In   younger   days,  before   he  married  the   beautiful 


28  The  Darlingtons 

Winifred  Colton,  Charles  Darlington  was  considered  a 
ladies'  man,  and  it  must  be  said  that  he  had  not  entirely 
outlived  the  distinction  at  the  age  of  fifty-five.  A  pretty 
face  always  distracted  him  —  at  this  period  of  life  in  a 
discreet,  perfectly  correct  way ;  even  in  a  paternal  way, 
if  the  face  was  young.  If  his  wife  ever  noticed  this 
trait  —  and  who  can  doubt  that  she  did  ?  —  she  had  too 
much  wisdom  and  too  much  confidence  in  him  ever  to 
comment  on  it.  That  he  ever  abused  this  confidence, 
nobody  ever  hinted.  With  men,  he  was  reasonably 
popular.  He  loved  the  pleasures  of  life ;  and,  without 
ever  sinking  into  excesses,  he  knew  how  to  make  him- 
self a  boon  companion.  In  his  jaunting  around  the 
country  with  railroad  men,  his  appearance  in  a  private 
car  was  always  a  signal  for  fun.  It  is  not  probable  that 
his  associates  took  him  very  seriously,  except  in  the 
matter  of  his  unquestionable  ability  to  "  run  a  railroad 
up  to  the  handle,"  to  use  his  own  expression. 

He  liked  to  bluster,  and  sometimes  he  obstinately  in- 
sisted on  standing  by  his  blusterings.  Yet  if  handled 
properly,  no  man  was  more  tractable,  as  every  member 
of  his  family  happily  knew.  His  disposition  was  natu- 
rally obliging.  In  his  heart  he  was  very  sensitive  to  the 
good-will  of  others.  He  had  a  quiet,  self-disparaging 
way  of  granting  favors  that  was  peculiarly  winning  ;  and 
though  the  keener-eyed  saw  that  he  thought  himself  a 
pretty  good  fellow  therefor,  they  never  seemed  to  think 
less  of  him  for  it. 

Yet,  with  it  all,  Charles  Darlington  was  cold-blooded. 
Toward  suffering,  in  himself  or  others,  he  was  prone  to 
assume  an  almost  stoical  indifference.  He  was  inclined 
to  laugh  cynically  at  the  barbs  of  fortune,  whether  they 
pricked  his  own  skin  or  his  neighbor's.     In  matters  of 


Some  Mutual  Diplomacy  29 

affection  he  was  undemonstrative,  even  in  the  bosom  of 
his  family,  and  he  and  his  children  ceaselessly  plied 
one  another  with  harmless  jokes.  Every  member  of 
that  family,  however,  he  loved  dearly  and  rejoiced  in  ; 
and,  like  everybody  else,  he  at  times  apparently  abro- 
gated all  the  rules  of  his  being,  and  exhibited  a  tender- 
ness as  pleasing  as  it  was  unexpected. 

He  turned  in  at  the  Intelligencer  office,  and  mounted 
to  the  editor's  room.  "Nichols,"  said  he,  twirhng  his 
cane  and  puffing  vigorously  at  his  cigar,  "I've  been 
thinking  of  running  a  time-table  in  the  Intelligejicer 
and  the  other  papers  along  the  road.  Of  course,  people 
living  on  the  road  know  the  schedules ;  we  don't  run 
so  many  trains  that  they  can't  remember  them ;  but 
I  believe  a  time-table  in  the  papers  would  be  a  great 
convenience  to  travelHng-men  and  strangers  generally." 

"It  undoubtedly  would,"  assented  the  editor,  running 
his  fingers  through  his  thick  hair.  "  It  undoubtedly 
would.  In  fact,  Mr.  Darlington,"  he  continued,  with 
the  air  of  a  man  throwing  open  his  soul  to  the  light 
of  day,  "  I  was  thinking  of  that  very  thing  myself  the 
other  day.     It  would  be  a  great  convenience." 

"  It 's  business,"  said  the  president,  conclusively. 
"  Of  course,  if  people  are  going  to  ride,  they  have  got 
to  ride  on  our  line ;  but  as  I  said  last  night,  in  my 
speech,"  —  he  paused  a  second,  —  "I  want  to  give  our 
people  the  same  conveniences  that  I  'd  give  them  if 
there  were  fifty  competing  railroads  running  in  here. 
But  I  '11  talk  it  over  with  Bert  and  Carol,  and  let  you 
know  later.  Three  heads  are  better  than  one.  About 
those  conductors'  report-cards  —  did  Carol  say  anything 
to  you  about  them  ?  We  've  got  out  a  new  form,  you 
know.     Or,  rather,  she  has.     Never  mind  about  look- 


30  The  Darlingtons 

ing  it  up.  If  she  has  n't  ordered  them  yet,  she  will. 
No  hurry,  anyway." 

He  waded  around  the  paper-littered  room,  blowing 
smoke  at  the  woodcut  politicians  on  the  walls,  and  stop- 
ping to  poke  a  wrinkled  map  with  his  cane. 

"  Mr.  Darhngton,"  said  the  editor,  adopting  a  tone 
that  the  other  instinctively  recognized  as  foreign  to 
business,  "  that  daughter  of  yours  is  a  wonder." 

"  How 's  that,  Nichols?"  asked  the  president,  geni- 
ally, without  turning  from  the  map. 

"  The  way  she  spoke  last  night,  in  that  off-hand  way. 
My  wife  said  that  if  she  had  been  called  on  that  way, 
she  would  have  fainted.  And  ninety-nine  women  out 
of  a  hundred  would,  too." 

^'  Well,  Carol  is  cool,"'  said  the  magnate,  modestly, 
"  She  always  was.  You  can  generally  count  on  her 
doing  the  right  thing  about  the  right  time." 

*'  I  guess  she  comes  by  it  honestly,"  said  Nichols, 
with  brazen  flattery.  "  I  don't  know  that  anybody 
carried  off  their  part  last  night  better  than  you  did 
yours." 

Darhngton  cleared  his  throat  and  readjusted  his  glossy 
hat,  by  way  of  acknowledging  the  compliment,  and  said 
disparagingly :  "  It  was  nothing.  Merely  a  matter  of 
business  with  me.  I  had  something  to  say,  and  I  said 
it.  That  was  all."  Then,  after  a  pause,  "  By  the  way, 
Nichols,  I  thought  I  saw  young  Willie  Stymist  making  a 
short-hand  report  of  my  speech  last  night."  Upon  be- 
ing assured  that  such  was  the  fact,  he  continued,  bending 
forward  significantly,  "Leave  that  out,  Nichols.  It's 
mere  slush,  mere  rot,  simply  the  promptings  of  the  mo- 
ment. Good  enough  for  the  occasion,  to  mix  in  with  the 
music,  and  all  that.     But  it  was  entirely  informal,  and 


Some  Mutual  Diplomacy  31 

while  I  flatter  myself  that  it  sounded  all  right,  it  was  n't 
meant  for  cold  type.  It  ain't  worth  your  while  to  set  it 
up.  Just  leave  that  part  out,  Nichols,  and  send  around 
to  my  office,  and  I  '11  give  you  some  figures  on 
the  building  to  take  its  place.  They  '11  read  a  good 
deal  better.  Something  substantial,  you  know.  That 
other  stuff  was  mere  balderdash  —  the  effusions  of  the 
moment." 

"  Mr.  Darlington,  if  you  will  allow  me,"  said  the  edi- 
tor, impressively,  "  I  '11  disagree  with  you  there.  It  was 
not  balderdash  by  any  means.  It  was  a  shrewd,  politic, 
skilful  appeal  to  the  people  to  lay  aside  their  prejudices 
against  a  corporation.  It  was  just  what  the  people 
need ;  just  what  I  Ve  been  preaching  in  these  columns 
for  years ;  and  it  did  good,  lots  of  good.  I  heard 
twenty  comments  on  it  last  night,  and  as  many  more 
this  morning.  You  surprised  the  people,  in  a  way, 
Mr.  Darlington ;  you  showed  them  a  side  of  your  char- 
acter that  they  are  not  familiar  with,  and  never  would 
get  familiar  with  any  other  way.  That  speech  ought  to 
go  out  to  the  people  that  did  n't  hear  it.  But,  of  course, 
if  you  don't  want  it  to  go  in,  it  won't  go  in.  The  boys 
are  working  on  it  now,  but  that  makes  no  difference. 
If  you  say  the  word,  out  she  comes.  But  I  assure  you, 
sir,  as  a  man  in  the  habit  of  feeling  the  public  pulse, 
that  it  will  have  weight  and  do  good." 

"  Well,  I  guess  you  better  cut  it  out,"  said  the  offi- 
cial, hesitating. 

"  All  right,  sir,"  said  Nichols,  uncomplainingly  ;  "but 
I  '11  tell  you  plainly,  Mr.  Darlington,  I  'd  sooner  cut  out 
all  the  rest  of  the  story  than  that." 

The  president  was  in  deep  doubt,  standing  his 
straightest,  and  blinking  at  the  editor  through  a  cloud 


32     ,  The  Darlingtons 

of  rich,  blue  smoke.  *'  Well,  let  it  go  in,  then,  as  long 
as  it 's  set  up,"  said  he.  ^'  I  don't  know  as  it  makes  any 
difference,  one  way  or  the  other.  Only,  I  thought  it 
was  a  little  —  just  a  trifle  —  well,  persofial.''* 

*'Not  at  all,"  said  the  editor,  reassuringly.  ''When 
a  man  of  your  prominence  speaks,  the  people  want  him 
to  be  personal.  You  get  down  to  their  level  then,  as 
it  were,  and  it  flatters  them.  No,  sir,  you  could  n't  have 
made  a  better  speech  if  you  had  taken  a  month  to  pre- 
pare it  in." 

"  I  would  have  got  more  meat  in  it,  Nichols,"  said 
the  president,  blandly.  "Maybe  too  much.  Maybe 
what  I  gave  them  was  the  best  thing  for  the  occasion, 
after  all.  At  least,  I  thought  so  at  the  time.  You  can 
let  it  go  in,  anyway." 

He  let  himself  down  the  unswept  stairs  with  some 
dignity.  The  complacent  look  on  his  face  was  undis- 
turbed by  the  thought  that  all  his  talk  about  time-tables 
and  report-cards  was  only  a  blind  to  cover  his  approach 
to  his  speech. 

Upon  reaching  the  new  building  again,  he  saw  Carol 
standing  upon  the  platform,  with  her  hands  in  her 
jacket  pockets, —  the  morning  was  a  little  frosty, —  evi- 
dently superintending  a  painter  who  was  on  his  knees 
before  the  waiting-room  door.  The  man  wore  that 
grieved  expression  which  the  humblest  of  the  sex  will 
adopt  when  subjected  to  the  orders  of  a  woman. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  BENEVOLENT   CONSPIRACY 

*'  What  's  up  ?  "  demanded  Darlington,  briskly. 

*' Nothing  —  only  I'm  having  these  signs  changed 
with  some  regard  to  the  Enghsh  language,"  answered 
the  girl,  without  Hfting  her  eyes  from  her  kneeling 
victim. 

'^  What 's  the  matter  with  Genfs  ?  "  asked  her  father, 
bullyingly,  but  with  a  subtle  undertone  of  deference. 
Carol  had  overruled  him  so  often  in  spelling,  grammar, 
and  kindred  matters  that  it  was  discreet  to  approach 
her  cautiously. 

*'  Gents  are  all  right  in  their  place,  but  this  waiting- 
room  is  likely  to  be  used  by  a  few  gentleme?i  from  time 
to  time.  And  as  'Men'  includes  both  'gents'  and 
*  gentlemen/  we  '11  have  it  so  that  nobody  will  feel 
excluded." 

The  president  snorted  scornfully,  but  she  denied  him 
the  satisfaction  of  looking  up,  and  he  went  on :  "  You 
are  too  fine-haired  for  me.  Pretty  soon  you  will  be 
firing  agents  for  leaving  commas  out  of  their  reports. 
Why,"  said  he,  warming  up,  ''  you  can  ride  from  Maine 
to  California,  and  not  see  a  single  waiting-room  sign 
painted  '  Men.'  " 

"  Oh,  no,  you  can't,  papa,"  she  denied,  suavely.  "  A 
few  of  them  are  painted  in  that  way.    And  in  a  few  years 

.3 


34  The  Darlingtons 

you  can  take  the  same  ride,  and  not  see  one  painted 
'  Gents.' " 

"  They  do  mostly  paint  'em  '  Gents,'  though,  nowa- 
days, miss,"  ventured  the  painter,  pausing  on  the  initial 
letter,  as  though  he  had  hopes  of  the  president's  victory 
yet.  Carol  deigned  no  answer  to  this  last,  and  her 
father  said,  caustically,  "  I  don't  suppose  you  have  got 
any  fault  to  find  with  the  other  one,  have  5'ou  ?  " 

*'  Yes,  sir,"  said  she,  with  a  keen  laugh  at  his  surprise. 

''  What's  the  matter  with  Ladies  V  he  demanded 
stoutly,  but  feeling  the  ground  slipping  from  beneath  his 
feet. 

"  '  Ladies  '  are  all  right,  too ;  but  if  you  reserve  that 
waiting-room  for  ladies  only,  a  good  many  women  will 
have  to  stand  out  here  under  the  shed,  or  affiliate  with 
the  '  gents '  in  this  room.  As  only  a  small  percentage 
of  women  are  ladies,  and  as  all  ladies  are  women,  why 
not  make  your  waiting-room  for  '  Women,'  and  give  the 
fair  sex  equal  hospitality  with  the  men?  " 

Darlington  snorted  at  this  hair-splitting,  and  even  the 
abject  painter  allowed  himself  a  sickly,  half-fledged  grin. 
But  the  tall,  firmly  planted  girl,  with  the  well-braced 
shoulders  and  the  calm  blue  eye,  lorded  it  over  them 
both,  and  had  her  own  way.  As  her  father  walked  off, 
vanquished,  but  with  his  crest  high,  Carol  touched  her 
handkerchief  to  her  hps  to  hide  a  smile.  She  would 
have  smiled  more  could  she  have  seen  her  father  an 
hour  or  two  later,  when  one  of  his  associates  at  the 
Business  Men's  Club  dropped  in. 

"I  been  lookin'  over  your  place,  Charhe,"  sighed  the 
gentleman,  as  he  dropped  into  the  easiest  chair  avail- 
able, for  he  was  rather  fat.  "I  like  everything  about 
the  shootin'  match,  except  one  thing.     Don't  it  strike 


A  Benevolent  Conspiracy  35 

you,  Charlie,  that  them  names  down  on  the  waitin'- 
room  doors  is  just  a  little  common?  Sound  kind  of 
flat,  don't  they  —  'Men '  and  '  Women ' ?  Might  offend 
some  of  your  highfalutin  customers,  might  n't  they, 
especially  the  ladies  ?  " 

The  president  leaned  back  in  his  most  effective,  most 
expansive  manner.  "  The  only  trouble  with  you,  Andy, 
is  that  you  are  not  up  on  English,"  said  he,  with  an 
affable  smile.  Thereupon  he  repeated  Carol's  argument 
in  favor  of  the  new  lettering  with  a  fidehty  which  con- 
vinced his  hearer  that  Charlie  Darlington  had  more 
book-learning  than  most  people  gave  him  credit  for. 

Pending  the  arrival  of  the  heavier  furniture  from  the 
old  office,  Carol  got  her  new  quarters  into  shape.  In 
her  hostihty  to  any  decorations  that  might  be  con- 
temptuously condemned  as  feminine  frailties,  she  ad- 
mitted no  pictures,  dearly  as  she  loved  them,  except 
those  of  a  commercial  suggestion.  On  one  side-  of  the 
room  hung  an  ocean  liner ;  opposite,  a  mechanical 
drawing  in  black-and-white  of  a  locomotive.  Besides 
these,  were  maps,  a  blue  print  of  the  road,  and  a  Rocky 
Mountain  scene,  the  last  redeemed  for  commercialism 
by  a  train  of  cars  crawling  over  a  winding,  spiderlike 
trestlework.  She  had  struggled  a  little  over  the  admis- 
sion of  plants  and  sash  curtains.  Neither  her  father 
nor  Herbert  had  them,  but  she  had  seen  them  in  other 
offices,  and  at  last  she  had  given  in  to  her  longing. 

She  left  about  noon  for  a  half-holiday,  —  she  could  do 
no  work  until  her  cabinets  and  desk  came  over,  — 
entirely  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  a  woman's  eyes 
were  reflected  in  the  harmonious  blending  of  the  bloom- 
ing plants,  and  that  a  woman's  subtle  touch  was  visible 
in  every  fold  of  the  sash  curtains,  as  well  as  in  the  care- 


36  The  Darlingtons 

ful  disposition  of  every  rug.  And  it  is  barely  possible 
that  Carol's  heart  would  not  have  throbbed  so  happily, 
as  she  flew  along  behind  Whitefoot,  had  she  known  that 
Tommy  Scrutcheons,  general  utility  boy  around  the 
building,  was  standing  at  that  moment  in  the  centre  of 
her  office,  with  a  cigarette  in  his  mouth,  saying  to  a 
fellow-incorrigible,  as  he  glanced  contemptuously  about, 
^'  Dis  is  where  the  gal  hangs  out.  Looks  more  like  a 
parlor  than  a  office." 

In  the  morning  Carol  dropped  into  her  old  office 
for  the  last  time,  to  see  that  nothing  had  been  over- 
looked by  the  draymen.  To  her  astonishment  and 
vexation,  she  found  that  her  desk  and  file-cases  had  not 
yet  been  moved.  She  hurried  over  to  the  new  build- 
ing, ran  up  the  stairs,  —  nobody  was  looking,  —  and 
flounced  into  her  father's  office. 

"  Papa  !  "  she  exclaimed,  indignantly.  "They  have  n't 
moved  my  desk  or  file-cases  yet.  I  gave  up  all  yester- 
day afternoon,  so  that  they  could  get  them  over,  and 
now  it  will  be  noon  before  I  can  do  anything." 

"Haven't  they  moved  your  stuff  yet?"  asked  her 
father,  gruffly,  balancing  back  in  his  chair.  "That's 
a  nice  note.  That  man  Webb  is  n't  worth  the  powder 
and  shot  to  blow  him  into  kingdom  come.  I  '11  have 
that  stuff  over  here  in  just  ten  minutes,  by  the  watch." 
He  left  the  room  for  a  minute,  presumably  to  give  the 
order.  When  he  returned,  he  asked,  "  What  do  you 
think  of  the  place?"  glancing  with  justifiable  pride 
around  the  handsomely  furnished  apartment. 

"It's  simply  grand!"  said  Carol,  forgetting  her 
troubles  in  her  admiration.  "Did  the  stockholders 
say  you  could  have  that  new  file-case  ?  Oh,  dear  ! " 
she  exclaimed,  despairingly.     "  And  Bert  has  new  chairs 


A  Benevolent  Conspiracy  37 

and  a  settee  !  I  have  the  shabbiest  old  office  in  the 
building,  and  I  ought  to  have  the  best." 

"  I  don't  see  anything  shabby  about  your  furniture,'' 
said  the  president,  complacently  lighting  a  fresh  cigar. 
•'  The  next  supply-man  I  can  work  for  a  desk  for  you, 
I  '11  do  it.  Let 's  take  a  look  at  your  place,  anyway, 
and  see  what  you  need.  Let 's  see  first,  though,  how 
Bert  has  got  his  new  stuff  arranged." 

"Very  poorly,"  said  Carol,  a  moment. later,  with  a 
critical  sun/ey  of  the  traffic-m.anager's  private  office, 
though  that  official  himself  was  present.  '-  What  have 
you  got  all  your  chairs  on  one  side  of  the  room  for,  in 
a  straight  row,  like  a  jury-box?"  she  asked  of  him. 
"  That  moss-green  settee  looks  hideous  against  those 
curtains.  Pull  it  over  here.  That  is  a  thousand  times 
better.  It 's  a  lovely  shade,"  she  added,  fondHng  the 
plush  with  a  yearning  light  in  her  eyes,  which  caused 
her  father  to  wink  at  Herbert.  "  I  feel  real  jealous, 
papa.  I  asked  for  a  settee  months  ago,  and  you  said 
the  stockholders  would  n't  stand  it.  They  never  stand 
anything,  for  me.  You  always  have  to  '  work  '  a  supply- 
man.  Well,  let 's  get  out  of  here.  I  feel  decidedly  out 
of  place  amid  this  luxury." 

She  halted  the  president  and  the  traffic-manager  at 
her  door  with  some  trepidation.  "  I  don't  know  whether 
you  will  like  the  arrangement  of  my  plants  or  not,  but  —  " 

"  Plants  !  "  snorted  her  father. 

"  Plants ! "  echoed  Bert,  but  with  a  glance  that  as- 
sured Carol  of  his  allegiance. 

"  Yes,  sir,  plants ! "  said  she,  looking  her  father 
stoutly  in  the  eye.  "I  suppose  you  could  ride  from 
Maine  to  California  without  seeing  one  of  those  in  a 
railroad  office."     She  wanted  to  prepare  them  for  the 


38  The  Darlingtons 

sash  curtains,  but  her  heart  failed  her,  and  she  recklessly 
threw  the  door  open  and  led  the  way  in. 

The  first  thing  that  struck  her  eye  was  a  magnificent 
ash  file-case_,  glittering  with  oil  and  burnished  brass. 
The  next  was  a  massive  walnut  desk  of  antique  style, 
with  carved  legs  strong  enough  to  support  a  house. 
The  next  was  a  dark-green  upholstered  davenport. 

"Bert,"  said  her  father  sternly,  before  Carol  had 
time  to  more  than  gasp,  "  that  hare-brained  drayman 
has  made  a  mistake.  I  saw  these  things  in  the  freight- 
house  yesterday  afternoon  myself,  and  they  were  tagged 
for  High  Point.  He  has  got  them  mixed  up  with  the 
new  furniture  for  your  room  and  mine,  and  this  accounts 
for  his  not  bringing  over  Carol's  stuff." 

But  the  daughter  knew  her  father  too  well ;  besides, 
she  had  seen  a  paper  sticking  out  of  the  new  desk, 
indicating  that  the  contents  of  the  old  one  had  been 
transferred  thereto.  She  threw  her  arms  around  her 
father's  neck,  and  gave  him  a  kiss  on  each  cheek. 
"A  thousand  thanks,  papa.     You   are  an  angel." 

"  I  got  them  cheap,"  said  Darlington,  disparagingly, 
thrusting  his  hands  into  his  pockets.  But  Carol  was 
hovering  lovingly  over  the  new  desk,  and  paid  no 
attention.  "  Bert ! "  he  continued,  mysteriously  beckon- 
ing his  son  over  to  the  window.  He  began  to  pinch 
the  dainty  sash  curtains  experimentally  between  his 
thumb  and  finger.  ''  Good  stuff,  eh !  Wash  well ! 
Nice  thing  to  catch  the  dust !  Shut  out  your  light 
nicely  on  a  cloudy  day  !     Look  fine  in  fly  time  !  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  care  what  you  say  now^''  cried  Carol, 
happily.  "  You  can  both  be  just  as  mean  as  you  want 
to,  and  I  '11  forgive  you.  Don't  you  think  they  look 
rather  womanish?     And  do  you  think  you  could  see 


A  Benevolent  Conspiracy  39 

any  of  those,    papa,    between    Maine    and    California? 
Do  you,  or  don't  you?" 

Her  father  laughed  scornfully,  but  Bert  said,  "  Your 


room  is  all  right,  sis." 

"There  is  only  one  thing  this  room  lacks,"  said 
Darlington,  soberly. 

"  What  is  that?  "  asked  Carol,  attentively. 

"  Spittoons." 

Carol's  nostrils  inflated  contemptuously,  as  though  his 
objection  was  too  absurd  to  be  seriously  answered. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  continued  her  father,  seriously.  "  A  man 
talking  business  in  this  country  never  feels  at  home 
unless  he'  s  got  a  spittoon  in  sight.  There  is  something 
cheerful  and  homelike  about  it  that  draws  a  man  out. 
I  can  remember  when  old  Cap  Carruthers  got  a  neat 
streak  on  —  about  the  time  the  doctors  put  him  on  a 
short  allowance  of  tobacco  —  and  ordered  spittoons  off 
the  line  from  one  end  to  the  other.  Well,  in  just  three 
years  the  A.  T.  and  S.  S.  was  in  the  hands  of  receivers. 
They  could  n't  do  business  without  them." 

"  Cuspidors  or  receivers  ?  "  asked  Carol,  mischievously. 

"  Cuspidors,  of  course." 

"What  kind  do  you  think  is  most  conducive  to  the 
prosperity  of  a  railroad,  brown  earthenware  or  flowered 
china?" 

"  Well,  china  shows  the  dirt,  and  earthenware  is  hard 
to  see  after  dark,"  he  answered  with  a  twinkle.  "To 
my  mind  nothing  beats  a  tub  full  of  sawdust." 


CHAPTER  V 

« 

A  CLERICAL  INTERVENTION 

In  conformity  with  habits  formed  long  before  they  even 

knew   of  the   existence   of  Ashboro,   the    Darhngtons 

lunched   at   one   o'clock   and   dined  at   six.     This,  of 

course,  was  in  open  defiance  of  the  custom  in  Ashboro, 

but   the  Darlingtons  were  not   noted  as   respecters  of 

customs.     One  day  after  luncheon,  a  week  or  two  after 

the  occupancy  of  the  new  building,  Carol  slowly  chmbed 

the   oiled  stairs  to  her   office.      She  was   tired.      Her 

monthly  statement  of  waybills  and  abstracts  had   not 

balanced,  and,  it  seemed,  would  not.     For  three  days 

her  little  force  of  clerks  had  been  busily  checking  the 

yellow  tissue  press-copies  of  the  waybills,  in  search  of  | 

the  error,  and  verifying    the  station-agents'  figures  on 

their  abstracts ;  and  all  that   morning  she  herself  had  jj 

pored  over  big  sheets  full  of  small  figures.     The  same 

big  sheets  were  yet  on  her  desk  unconquered.     It  was,  j 

therefore,  with  a  slight  sense  of  irritability  that  she  dis-  i 

covered  a  stranger  in  her  office,  evidently  waiting  for  | 

her. 

The  man  was  large,  yet  so  compact  and  well-propor- 
tioned that  he  suggested  strength  rather  than  size.  He 
wore  a  black  Prince  Albert  coat,  buttoned  snugly  over 
an  athletic  chest.  His  face  —  a  full,  smooth  oval  — 
was  of  a  ruddy,  healthy  hue.  His  reddish-brown  hair, 
which  was  rather  thin,  was  parted  near  the  centre,  at  the 


A  Clerical  Intervention  41 

top  of  a  high,  fine  forehead.  Beneath  this  prominent 
forehead  was  a  yet  more  striking  feature,  —  a  pair  of 
large,  round,  blue  eyes,  boyishly  clear  and  innocent, 
yet  containing  an  indescribable  something  which  would 
have  deterred  any  but  a  very  rash  person  from  presum- 
ing too  far  upon  their  boyishness  and  innocence. 
Aloreover,  there  was  a  characteristic  turn  about  his  chin 
and  mouth  which  suggested  tenacity,  if  not  indeed 
pugnacity. 

Who  the  man  was,  or  what  he  wanted,  Carol  had  not 
the  least  idea,  though  she  fancied  that  he  might  possibly 
be  a  lawyer  from  some  neighboring  town.  If  he  was  a 
lawyer,  he  probably  had  a  claim  against  the  railroad, 
which  might  account  for  that  slightly  pugnacious  look. 
As  Carol  unbuttoned  and  removed  her  jacket,  after 
saluting  the  stranger,  she  half  smiled.  A  great  many 
pugnacious  people  found  their  way  into  her  office  from 
time  to  time,  and  she  had  learned  pretty  well  how  to 
hold  her  own  with  them.  She  had  no  especial  liking 
for  such  people,  but  there  was  something  rather  whole- 
some and  refreshing  about  this  man's  sturdy  bearing; 
and  the  prospect  of  a  little  tilt  with  him  was  not  at  all 
distasteful  to  her. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you?  "  asked  Carol,  as  she  sat 
down  at  her  desk. 

"  You  are  Miss  Darlington,  I  believe.  My  name  is 
Kaltenborn,"  said  the  stranger,  in  a  round,  full  voice. 
"  I  come  here,  Miss  Darlington,  in  the  interest  of  Mrs. 
Burbanks,  whose  son  Johnnie,  as  you  doubtless  know, 
was  killed  on  your  road  some  time  ago.'' 

*'  Yes,  shr,"  said  Carol,  promptly.  "  He  fell  from  the 
roof  of  a  box-car  while  intoxicated."  Her  tone  was 
significant. 


42  The  Darlingtons 

Kaltenborn  was  seated  at  the  other  side  of  the  wide 
table,  with  one  arm  resting  upon  it.  He  quietly  let  his 
azure  eyes  float  across  the  intervening  space.  They  met 
hers  squarely,  and  the  gauntlet  was  down. 

"Just  as  he  might  have  fallen  from  any  kind  of  a 
roof,"  said  he,  with  a  smile  to  indicate  that  he  caught 
her  meaning. 

"  Except  that  he  was  trying  to  set  the  brake  with  a 
broomstick  —  an  infraction  of  one  of  our  most  inflexible 
rules,"  added  Carol. 

"  I  am  convinced  that  his  death  was  owing  to  his 
own  negligence,"  continued  Kaltenborn,  pleasantly  but 
seriously,  "and  that  the  railroad  company  was  in  no 
wise  responsible.  That,  of  course,  relieves  it  of  any 
legal  obligations  in  the  way  of  damages.  I  am  sorry 
that  Mrs.  Burbanks  can't  see  it  in  that  way,  too ;  but 
she  is  a  woman,  and —  I  beg  your  pardon!  "  said  he 
pausing. 

"  Go  on !  "  said  Carol,  laughing. 

^'  Mrs.  Burbanks  has  appealed  to  you  for  a  pension  — 
so  far  without  success.  She  has  also,  perhaps,  made 
threats,  which  people  who  are  no  friends  of  hers  have 
brought  to  your  ears.  How  much  the  threats  of  that 
ignorant  woman  amount  to,  you  know  as  well  as  I." 

"  Unless  she  falls  into  the  hands  of  some  pettifogging 
lawyer,"  suggested  Carol,  pointedly. 

"  I  am  not  here  to  carry  out  those  threats,"  he 
returned.  "  I  simply  want  to  bring  about  an  accommo- 
dation, if  that  is  possible.  I  don't  base  her  claim  for 
consideration  at  your  hands  on  the  faithfulness  or  effi- 
ciency of  her  son's  service  to  your  road,  for  I  understand 
that  he  was  not  faithful  or  efficient.  His  father,  how- 
ever, was  connected  with  your  road  from  the  day  your 


A  Clerical  Intervention  43 

first  wheel  turned,  and  was  a  faithful,  respected  employe 
until  the  day  he  met  his  death  in  the  courageous  dis- 
charge of  his  duty.  I  am  here  to-day  to  see  if  some- 
thing cannot  be  done  to  save  his  wife  and  four  helpless 
little  ones  from  public  charity.  I  want  to  know  if  there 
is  any  possibility  of  the  road  granting  her  a  small 
pension." 

He  was  pugnacious,  sure  enough,  Carol  decided,  as 
he  impaled  her  on  his  level  gaze.  She  stiffened  a  little 
under  the  operation,  and  put  on  her  most  official  air. 

*'  That  is  a  matter  with  which  I  have  nothing  to  do, 
Mr.  —  Kaltenborn,"  she  answered,  halting  a  second  over 
the  unusual  name.  ''  My  father  deals  with  all  such  mat- 
ters personally.  He  will  be  back  to-night  or  to-morrow. 
But  it  is  only  fair  for  me  to  tell  you,  before  you  put  your- 
self to  any  further  trouble,  that  Johnnie  Burbanks  met 
his  death  while  violating  two  rules  of  this  company  ;  and 
were  we  to  allow  his  mother  a  pension,  it  would  simply 
be  putting  a  premium  on  inefficiency  and  insubordination 
in  our  employes." 

"  You  don't  think  it  would  tempt  any  of  them  to 
get  killed,  do  you,  for  the  sake  of  a  pension  for  their 
survivors?" 

"  We  have  discipHne  to  maintain,"  said  she,  quietly. 

"  Then  it  is  a  matter  of  policy,  I  may  say,  with  the 
company?" 

"  Well,  yes,"  she  admitted  cautiously. 

"  It 's  a  matter  of  bread  and  butter  with  Mrs.  Bur- 
banks,"  said  Kaltenborn. 

Carol  flushed,  but  detected  at  once  the  unfairness  of 
the  insinuation.  "  Her  lack  of  bread  and  butter  appeals 
just  as  much  to  me,  sir,  and  to  my  father,  as  it  does  to 
you,"  she  returned  with  some  spirit.   '•  Your  setting  bread 


44  The  Darlingtons 

and  butter  against  policy  would  appeal  powerfully,  no 
doubt,  to  a  jury,"  she  continued,  not  doubtin^^  now  that 
he  was  a  lawyer,  and  rather  glad  of  her  remark  about 
pettifoggers.  "  But  you  will  find  it  not  quite  so  effective 
with  my  father." 

*•  I  have  no  doubt  of  that,"  he  replied,  dryly. 

"  I  mean  that  policy  with  us,  no  matter  how  slightingly 
it  may  be  spoken  of,  means  an  honest  administration 
of  the  affairs  of  this  road ;  an  honest  accounting  to 
the  people  who  have  intrusted  their  money  in  our 
hands." 

'^  I  did  not  m^ean  to  insinuate  that  you  are  insensible 
to  suffering,"  said  Kaltenborn,  so  frankly  and  generously 
that  Carol  felt  a  little  ashamed  of  her  warmth.  '^  I  only 
meant  that  Mrs.  Burbanks's  case  is  stronger  than  yours 


in  its  motive." 


^' There  is  some  question  even  about  that,"  she 
returned  with  a  smile.  "  You  would  hardly  put  physi- 
cal wants  above  principle,  would  you  ?  And  you  must 
not  hold  us  responsible  for  her  poverty." 

"  No,  I  do  not  do  that.  She  is  poor  because  her  natu- 
ral supporters  have  been  taken  away.  But  you  will  not 
deny  that  death  is  a  heavy  penalty  for  drunkenness  or  the 
violation  of  a  rule.  And  if  this  youth  had  fallen  from 
some  other  roof  than  that  of  a  box-car,  it  is  not  likely 
he  would  have  been  killed.  It  was  your  wheels  —  wheels 
that  were  earning  your  bread  and  butter  —  which  ground 
the  life  out  of  him  and  cut  off  his  mother's  bread  and 
butter.  You  could  not  help  that,  and  those  wheels,  dan- 
gerous as  they  are,  are  very  necessary.  But  cannot  you 
avert  the  consequences  of  their  cruel  work,  in  a  measure  ? 
Is  it  not  your  duty  to  do  so?" 

His   honest,  fearless  eyes  repeated  the   appeal  in  a 


A  Clerical  Intervention  45 

manner  that  absolutely  forbade  any  quibble  or  evasion. 
She  doubted  now  about  his  being  a  lawyer. 

'*If  it  is,"  she  answered,  ''we  will  do  it.'^ 

"  I  felt  sure  of  that,"  said  he  ;  ''but  I  am  glad,  never- 
theless, to  hear  you  say  it.  It  is,  then,  merely  a  question 
of  determining  what  your  duty  is.  When  Mrs.  Burbanks 
came  to  me  and  asked  me  to  make  this  intercession,  I 
had  some  difficulty  in  determining  that  it  was  my  duty 
to  do  so,  for  I  knew  the  circumstances  of  her  son's  death. 
But  after  thinking  the  matter  over  carefully,  I  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  something  was  due  her,  and  I  told 
her  so.  I  told  her  that  I  would  try  to  help  her.  I  shall 
not  have  tried,  in  the  sense  she  understands  the  pledge, 
until  I  have  exhausted  every  honorable  means.  Now,  I 
am  aware  that  you  have  not  the  authority,  as  you  just 
stated,  to  commit  the  company  to  any  course  in  this  mat- 
ter.    But  I  want  you  to  help  me.     Will  you  do  it  ?  " 

^'  Why,  I  will  do  everything  consistent  with  justice, 
and  loyalty  to  my  father  and  those  I  serve,  —  the  other 
stockholders,"  said  Carol,  not  just  relishing  this  process. 

"I  could  not  ask  more,"  he  answered.  "  But  I  want 
you  to  look  into  this  case  and  decide  it  on  its  merits,  for 
yourself,  first.  If  you  think  the  pension  ought  not  to  be 
granted,  tell  your  father  so  plainly,  and  oppose  it  to  the 
end.  I  shall  think  none  the  less  of  you  for  it.  But  if 
you  think  it  ought  to  be  granted,  I  want  you  to  be  just  as 
firm  in  the  other  direction.  Don't  lay  the  burden  of  a 
decision  entirely  on  your  father.  You  are  old  enough  to 
know  that  he  is  not  infallible,  any  more  than  you  or  I. 
He  may  have  certain  foibles  that  you  are  familiar  with ; 
for  instance,"  —  he  paused  a  second,  —  "  his  intolerance 
of  insubordination  in  employes  may  prejudice  him  a  little 
against  Mrs.  Burbanks.     He  may  lose  sight  of  the  fact 


46  The  Darlingtons 

that  it  is  the  widow  and  four  little  children  to  whom  jus- 
tice is  to  be  done,  and  not  to  Johnnie  Burbanks.  Will 
you  see,  so  far  as  you  can,  that  they  get  a  fair  hearing?  " 

*'I  have  promised,"  said  she,  stiffly.  "  I  don't  know 
that  I  shall  have  much  opportunity  to  talk  it  over  with 
my  father.  That  is,  we  have  talked  it  over  a  good  deal, 
and  I  don't  know  that  I  have  anything  new  to  tell  him. 
Who  shall  I  tell  him  called  —  that  is,  in  what  capacity?  " 

"  Stephen  Kaltenborn,  the  new  pastor  of  the  Methodist 
Church,  of  which  Mrs.  Burbanks  is  a  member." 

"Very  well,"  she  answered,  stirring  some  papers  on 
her  desk,  as  if  to  intimate  that  the  interview  was  ended. 

He  did  not  take  the  hint,  however ;  and,  indeed,  he 
looked  like  a  man  upon  whom  a  hint  would  be  wasted 
nine  times  out  of  ten,  unless  he  saw  fit  to  accept  it.  He 
sat  drumming  lightly  with  his  fingers  and  watching  her. 
"I  might  as  well  confess  to  you,  Miss  Darlington,"  he 
said,  presently,  "  that  I  came  here  to-day,  when  I  knew 
that  your  father  was  away,  because  I  wanted  to  speak  to 
you  first.  I  know  that  this  matter  has  already  been 
brought  before  your  father,  and  that  he  has  offered  Mrs. 
Burbanks  no  encouragement." 

"  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  he  has  flatly  refused  her," 
answered  Carol,  dryly. 

**I  did  not  so  understand  it,"  said  he,  gravely.  ''If 
he  has,  I  hope  he  may  be  induced  to  reconsider  his 
decision.  That  is  what  I  want  you  to  do  for  me.  I  have 
the  most  implicit  faith  in  woman.  Miss  Darlington.  I 
have  always  believed  that,  but  for  her,  man  would  soon 
sink  into  his  original  savagery ;  and  in  those  transactions 
which  perhaps  require  a  little  more  of  the  milk  of  human 
kindness  and  a  little  less  of  worldly  calculation,  I  have 
always  found  women  invaluable  allies." 


A  Clerical  Intervention  47 

"  You  are  very  complimentary  to  our  sex/'  said  Carol, 
suavely. 

"  Merely  truthful." 

''But  possibly  you  mean  that  we  are  more  easily 
managed.     In  that  case,  you  are  not  so  complimentary .'* 

*'  To  say  that  women  are  easily  led  in  the  right  direc- 
tion seems  to  me  high  praise,"  he  returned.  "  Preach- 
ers, in  their  church  work,  simply  co-operate  with  this 
trait  in  women.  And  I  think  that  most  women  like 
being  led,  as  you  call  it." 

"  I  don't  like  it,"  said  she,  emphatically. 

"  Not  even  if  you  are  being  led  in  the  right  direction?" 

'•  No.  I  like  to  go  it  alone.  People  who  Hke  to  be 
led  are  usually  weak,  I  think." 

"  Many  who  dislike  to  be  led  are  not  strong,  but 
wayward,"  he  retorted.  "However,  I  did  not  come 
here  to  lead  you,"  he  added,  smiling.  "  I  want  you  to 
'  go  it  alone.'  I  don't  want  you  to  be  led  by  any  man, 
not  even  your  father." 

"  I  hope  you  don't  overrate  my  influence  with  my 
father,"  said  Carol.  "  He  has  his  own  ideas  about  cer- 
tain things,  and  running  a  railroad  is  one  of  them. 
Moreover,"  she  continued  more  seriously,  "he  cannot 
always  do  just  as  he  would  like  in  matters  of  this  kind. 
The  railroad  is  not  a  philanthropic  institution,  and  the 
stockholders,  like  the  poor,  are  always  with  us." 

"We  are  not  asking  for  philanthropy,"  answered 
Kaltenbom.  "  All  we  want  is  justice  —  far-seeing,  dis- 
criminating justice,  to  be  sure  ;  but  only  justice." 

"I  think  you  will  get  it,"  said  she,  with  some  re- 
serve.    "Only  —  we  must  be  the  judges." 

When  Kaltenborn  arose,  Carol  affected  not  to  see  his 
half-proffered  hand.     She  hardly  thought  a  hand-shake 


48  The  Darlingtons 

necessary.  After  he  had  gone,  there  was  a  little  frown- 
ing wrinkle  between  her  brows.  She  felt  piqued.  Kal- 
tenborn  had  plainly  come  to  her,  not  as  the  auditor  of 
the  H.  P.,  R.,  A.,  and  S.,  but  as  a  woman.  She  was 
not  ashamed  of  being  a  woman,  and  only  resented  an 
appeal  to  her  as  such  when  it  implied  that  women  were 
more  manageable  than  men  —  more  easily  hoodwinked, 
as  she  construed  it.  Furthermore,  the  minister  had 
seemed  to  make  a  virtue  of  extracting  from  her  a  prom- 
ise to  do  what  she  would  have  done  in  any  event, 
namely,  give  justice.  He  had  taken  advantage  of  his 
position  as  a  minister,  she  suspected,  to  morally  brow- 
beat her  a  little.  She  was  sorry  now  that  she  had  prom- 
ised to  inteiTcne  at  all ;  she  had  not  wanted  to  promise 
at  the  time,  but  he  had  manipulated  her  into  a  tight 
place,  from  which  the  only  decent  means  of  escape  was 
a  promise. 

Yet,  as  she  rested  her  slightly  angular  chin  in  her 
hand  and  gazed  thoughtfully  at  her  plants,  she  was 
moved  to  a  little,  low  laugh,  in  spite  of  her  vexation. 
It  was  rather  ridiculous.  So  this  was  the  Reverend 
Stephen  Kaltenborn.  She  remembered  now  to  have 
heard  one  of  their  servant  girls  say  what  a  lovely  man 
her  new  pastor  was.  Carol  could  readily  see  how  such 
a  person  as  Tilly  might  make  a  demigod  out  of  this 
seraph-eyed,  deep-chested,  plain-spoken,  pertinacious 
preacher ;  and  she  could  readily  see  how  a  man  with 
such  a  flock  might  fall  into  the  habit  of  bullying.  It 
was  not  exactly  bullying,  though,  —  his  treatment  of  her, 
—  she  admitted. 

Carol  knew  well  enough  the  obstinate  attitude  her 
father  had  come  to  hold  towards  this  Burbanks  busi- 
ness.   Whatever  his  original  position  might  have  been, 


A  Clerical  Intervention  49 

outside  influence,  and,  as  he  believed  it,  intermeddling 
influence,  had  driven  him  to  a  purely  partisan  view  of 
the  case.  He  had  come  to  look  upon  the  whole  matter 
simply  as  a  fight,  —  the  railroad  against  public  opinion. 
Carol  had  sided  with  her  father,  naturally  enough,  for 
family  loyalty  was  one  of  her  strongest  traits.  Yet  this 
very  loyalty,  in  connection  with  her  official  position, 
was  slowly  bhghting  in  her  some  of  the  most  precious 
qualities  of  a  woman.  Charged  from  birth  with  too 
much  of  her  father's  cool  and  calculating  nature,  she 
was  now  going  to  school  to  him.  Never  too  tender,  she 
was  daily  taught  that  tenderness  is  too  often  only  an- 
other name  for  a  weak,  if  not  cowardly,  evasion  of  the 
sterner  issues  of  life  ;  not  taught  in  so  many  words,  not, 
in  fact,  in  any  words,  but  by  daily  observ^ation  of  the 
workings  of  her  father's  business  principles, — principles 
that  had  apparently  won  the  respect  of  his  associates, 
and  had  certainly  won  him  a  fortune. 

Little  manifestations  of  this  development  in  his  daugh- 
ter caused  Mr.  Darhngton's  eyes  to  sparkle  with  fatherly 
pride.  Yet  C.  A.  Darlington  was  not  a  bad  man.  He 
was  regarded  as  a  model  father,  and  his  own  comfort 
and  interests  were  ever  subservient  to  those  of  his 
children.  The  dearest  wish  of  his  heart  was  that  Her- 
bert should  make  a  noble,  upright,  successful  man,  and 
that  Carol  should  make  a  noble,  upright  woman.  Ruth 
he  looked  upon  as  yet  in  her  mother's  exclusive  charge. 
But  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  this  "  business  "  de- 
velopment of  Carol  had  gone  very  far  yet ;  or  that  she 
did  not  often  act  solely  on  impulse ;  or  that  she  would 
ever  become  the  person  her  father  was.  No  tutor, 
however  skilled,  however  loved  by  his  pupil,  could 
make  a  man  out  of  a  woman. 

4 


50  The  Darlingtons 

At  a  quarter  of  five  Carol  telephoned  to  the  house  for 
Whitefoot.  In  the  early  part  of  her  drive  she  found 
herself  approaching  the  Burbankses'  home.  Just  why 
she  had  come  that  way,  she  could  not  have  said ;  it 
was  certainly  not  to  verify  the  Reverend  Kaltenborn's 
statement  of  the  Burbankses'  poverty,  for  that  was  a 
matter  of  public  knowledge.  She  was  not  quite  cer- 
tain that  she  had  not  come  by  chance  ;  yet  she  was 
conscious  of  having  had  the  Burbankses  in  mind  ever 
since  the  minister's  call.  She  let  the  mare  walk  past 
the  shed-like,  battened  structure  to  which  the  family 
had  sunk  since  Johnnie's  death.  Mrs.  Burbanks  was 
out  in  the  yard,  hanging  up  a  washing.  Carol  involun- 
tarily withdrew  her  eyes  from  the  wretched  creature, 
and  glanced  down  at  her  own  richly  clad  figure,  so 
warm,  so  healthy  and  clean,  so  well  fed  and  well 
groomed,  enthroned  there  on  the  high-backed  seat  of 
her  stylish  trap.  It  was  hard,  awfully  hard,  she  said, 
with  a  swelling  throat. 

But  was  it  her  fault?  "Is  it  our  fault,  Carol?"  she 
could  in  fancy  hear  her  father  ask,  as  he  flourished  his 
smoking  Havana,  which  cost  more  than  Johnnie  Bur- 
banks  had  ever  earned  in  an  hour.  The  thought 
comforted  her.  He  who  was  so  good  and  kind  to  her 
and  the  rest  of  the  family,  so  free  with  his  money  to 
others,  could  not  be  a  party  to  the  iniquitous  starvation 
of  this  helpless  woman.  If  he  refused  her  a  pension, 
it  was  because  he  could  not  conscientiously  grant  her  one. 

Still  she  was  not  satisfied,  and  when  she  announced 
to  her  father  that  night  that  Kaltenborn  had  called,  and 
he  answered,  without  looking  up  from  his  paper,  "  I 
suppose  he  tried  to  open  your  shell  with  a  text,"  the 
words  grated  on  her. 


A  Clerical  Intervention  51 

"  He  *s  coming  up  to  see  you  to-morrow,"  said  she, 
seriously. 

"  He  might  as  well  save  his  shoe  leather,"  answered 
Mr.  Darlington,  shortly.  Carol  smiled,  knowing  that  his 
heart  was  not  as  hard  as  his  words. 

"  It  does  seem  as  though  that  poor  woman  was  hav- 
ing more  than  her  share  of  trouble,"  said  Mrs.  Darling- 
ton softly  to  Carol,  after  Mr.  Darlington  had  relapsed 
into  silence.  "  Mrs.  Black  told  me  to-day  that  one  ot 
the  children  had  typhoid  fever." 

"  Where  did  you  see  Mrs.  Black  ?  "  asked  Carol. 

"  She  was  here  collecting  for  the  Ladies'  Aid  Society." 

"Are  they  helping  Mrs.  Burbanks?" 

"No;  she  won't  take  charity  yet,  as  she  calls  it.  I 
guess  she 's  got  a  little  of  the  money  left  yet  that  Johnnie's 
lodge  paid  her,  though  I  presume  that  was  really  charity. 
Johnnie  never  took  any  interest  in  the  lodge  after  the 
novelty  wore  off,  and  he  was  away  behind  in  his  dues." 

Mr.  Darlington  was  not  so  absorbed  in  his  paper  as 
to  be  oblivious  to  this  dialogue,  for  he  said,  lowering 
the  sheet  to  his  lap,  '•  I  don't  want  to  be  harsh,  or  say 
anything  cruel,  but  it  would  be  a  God's  mercy  if  that 
child  died.  It  is  nothing  but  a  burden  on  its  mother, 
and  what  possible  future  has  it,  without  education  or 
training  of  any  kind  ?  The  chances  are,  if  it  grows  up 
in  that  atmosphere,  it  will  disgrace  its  mother  some 
day.  Poor  as  she  is,  I  '11  give  Mrs.  Burbanks  credit  for 
always  holding  her  head  up." 

"  The  child  is  entitled  to  a  fair  trial,  Charles,"  said  his 
wife.     "  She 's  such  a  bright,  pretty  httle  thing." 

' '  She  would  have  more  show  if  she  was  ugly  and 
dull,"  said  the  husband,  resuming  his  paper. 

"Where    did   you   ever  see   her,   mamma?"   asked 


52 


The  Darlingtons 


Carol.  She  always  wondered  how  her  mother,  who 
never  seemed  to  go  anywhere,  found  out  so  much 
about  people,  especially  poor  people. 

"  We  had  them  all  out  to  the  guild  supper,  a  few 
weeks  ago." 

When  Carol  kissed  her  mother  good-night,  she  let  her 
lips  lie  a  moment  longer  than  usual.  Mrs.  Darlington's 
unobtrusive  sympathy  for  the  miserable  family  had 
stirred  her  daughter's  heart.  In  the  same  measure,  her 
father's  indifference  had  shocked  Carol,  and  slightly  re- 
pelled her.  But  as  she  bent  to  kiss  him  also,  a  little 
displacement  of  his  hair  struck  her  fancy  as  boyish, 
as  youthfully  pure  and  innocent.  She  instantly  re- 
pented her  momentary  hardness  toward  him,  and  gave 
him,  too,  a  kiss  of  added  fervor. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  PROBLEM   OF  JUSTICE 

For  an  hour  or  more  Carol  twisted  and  turned  in  her 
bed,  deep  in  the  problem  of  justice ;  but  the  farther 
she  went,  the  more  intricate  became  the  way.  Without 
the  polestar  of  her  father's  interests,  and  the  stock- 
holders' —  those  infinitesimal,  but  omnipresent  stock- 
holders !  —  she  lost  her  reckoning  entirely.  She  tacked 
this  way  and  that.  Championing  in  her  fancy  the 
widow  Burbanks,  she  made  out  a  clear  case  for  her ; 
deserting  to  the  railroad,  she  made  out  a  clear  case  for 
it.  If  it  were  her  railroad,  she  knew  what  she  would 
do ;  she  would  grant  the  pension.  But  again  up  came 
the  stockholders,  flitting  through  her  bewildered  brain 
like  uneasy  phantoms,  with  their  reduced  dividends  in 
their  hands. 

She  dreamed  that  these  same  phantoms  held  a  meet- 
ing to  consider  the  Burbanks  case,  only  there  was  a  vast 
amphitheatre  full  of  them,  and  Mrs.  Burbanks's  children 
had  multiplied  to  the  number  of  the  old  woman's  who 
lived  in  a  shoe.  Johnnie  Burbanks  came  back  to  life  to 
testify  that  he  had  always  been  a  sober  and  efficient  em- 
ploy6.  Kaltenborn  was  there  in  the  form  of  a  giant, 
with  eyes  as  big  as  saucers,  pleading  the  widow's  cause 
in  a  voice  of  thunder.     Finally  they  all  agreed  to  leave 


^4  The  Darlingtons 

the  decision  to  Carol,  which  threw  her  into  such  a  panic 
that  she  woke  up. 

In  the  morning  she  tried  to  straighten  out  the  maze 
of  the  night;  but  in  her  heart,  before  the  great  Justiciar, 
she  could  not  come  to  a  conviction.  At  last  she  de- 
cided, half  desperately,  and  with  Kaltenborn's  warning 
ringing  in  her  ears,  to  leave  it  with  her  father.  He 
seemed  to  be  so  sure  of  his  ground,  so  certain  of  the 
righteousness  of  his  course ;  and  she  would  not  oppose 
him,  though  Mr.  Kaltenborn  and  a  thousand  other 
men  should  scorn  her  as  weak. 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  Darlington  stuck 
his  head  in  at  Carol's  door.  All  day  she  had  started 
nervously  at  the  click  of  the  latch,  momentarily  expect- 
ing a  summons  to  the  president's  private  office  —  and 
Kaltenborn's  presence.  Now,  when  she  was  beginning 
to  breathe  easier,  it  had  come. 

"  Your  preacher  is  here,"  said  her  father,  briefly. 
^^Come  in." 

"  Papa,  I  don't  want  to  see  him,"  said  she,  beseech- 
ingly.    "  You  don't  need  me." 

"  I  want  you  to  be  there  in  case  he  rings  in  anything 
about  your  promises." 

"  My  promises  !  "  she  gasped.  "  Did  he  say  I  —  I 
had  promised  something?" 

"  No,  and  I  don't  want  him  to.  That 's  the  reason  I 
want  you  there.     Come  on.'* 

As  they  passed  the  traffic-manager's  door  Herbert 
stepped  out  —  by  chance,  it  seemed. 

"  For  goodness'  sake,  Bert,  are  you  coming  too  ? " 
asked  Carol.  "  He  '11  think  it 's  a  family  conspiracy," 
and  she  laughed  foolishly. 

"  Who  '11  think  ?  "  asked  Bert. 


The  Problem  of  Justice  55 

«  Mr.  Kaltenborn." 

^^  I  think  I  don't  care  to  be  present,"  answered 
Bert,  significantly,  turning  back.  "  I  '11  see  you  later, 
father." 

Carol  had  mentioned  Kaltenborn's  visit  to  Bert  also, 
but  he  had  been  very  reticent  about  the  pension.  She 
did  not  half  like  the  way  he  turned  on  his  heel  now. 
Her  father,  though,  merely  gave  the  retreating  traffic- 
manager  a  look  of  amused  unconcern.  He  was  used  to 
his  son's  "  sentimentality." 

"  Now,  papa,"  whispered  Carol,  with  her  hand  on  the 
door-knob,  "don't  swe-e-// /  " 

Kaltenborn  bowed  gravely  to  Carol,  with  no  reference 
whatever  in  his  manner  to  their  former  interview.  Mr. 
Darlington,  before  proceeding  to  business,  took  a  cigar 
from  his  drawer  and  lit  it.  Carol  wondered  if  that 
was  exactly  polite  before  a  preacher,  who  presumably 
did  not  smoke  ;  but  she  was  glad  that  her  father  went 
no  farther  in  his  disregard  of  conventions.  He  had 
once  offered  a  preacher  a  cigar,  and  Carol  knew  it  was 
because  he  did  not  like  preachers  very  well. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Kaltenborn,"  began  the  president  incis- 
ively, but  pleasandy  enough,  as  he  leaned  back  in  his 
swivel-chair,  "  this  case  has  been  up  before  me  until  I 
know  it  from  A  to  Z.  I  had  thought  it  was  out  of  the 
way  for  all  time  to  come,  and  that  everybody  under- 
stood it  that  way." 

"  Mr.  Kaltenborn  has  just  moved  to  Ashboro,"  sug- 
gested Carol. 

"  Well,  that  makes  a  difference,"  said  her  father,  in  a 
tone  which  implied  that  it  did  not  make  a  difference. 
"  If  you  had  lived  here  long,  Mr.  Kaltenborn,  I  don't 
think  you  would  be  up  here  to-day  on  your  present 


56  The  Darlingtons 

errand.  You  would  have  known  too  much  about  the 
case,  and  about  Johnnie  Burbanks.  But  I  am  glad  to 
welcome  you  to  the  town,"  he  continued  expansively, 
as  though  —  as  Carol  afterwards  put  it  to  his  face  — 
Ashboro  were  only  a  corner  of  his  backyard.  "You 
will  find  it  a  good  town.  You  will  find  that  one  of 
the  things  that  make  it  good  is  this  railroad,  and  you 
will  find  that  nine  people  out  of  ten  think  it 's  the  main 
thing.  You  will  find  that  that  is  so  because  we  have 
the  confidence  of  the  people  and  always  treat  them 
squarely." 

Carol's  mouth  dimpled  at  the  corners,  as  she  stole  a 
little  flushed  glance  at  Kaltenborn,  expecting  to  find 
him  laughing.  He  was  perfectly  grave,  however.  An 
ordinary  observer  might  even  have  thought  him  im- 
pressed. 

"  I  intend  to  be  fair  in  this  case,"  went  on  Mr.  Dar- 
lington. "As  I  just  said,  I  have  been  over  the  ground 
a  hundred  times.  I  have  sifted  the  evidence  and  re- 
sifted  it,  and  came  to  a  conclusion  long  ago,  which 
conclusion  Mrs.  Burbanks  knows  very  well.  But  if 
you  have  got  any  facts  to  offer  that  are  7iew,  I  am  will- 
ing to  listen  to  them."  He  leaned  back  much  as  a 
man  might  after  challenging  another  to  produce  a  new 
planet  in  the  solar  system. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  have  any  new  facts,"  said  Kal- 
tenborn, leaning  forward  slightly.  "  I  think  the  old  facts 
are  quite  sufficient  to  justify  this  widow's  claims.  In 
any  event,  those  are  the  only  facts.  Mr.  DarHngton, 
you  know  that  railroading  is  a  hazardous  business.  You 
know  that  the  mortality  among  railroad  employes  is  very 
large  —  so  large  that  they  can  with  difficulty  get  Hfe 
insurance  with  a  reputable  company.     You  know  that 


The  Problem  of  Justice  57 

on  account  of  this  extreme  hazard  railroad  companies 
sometimes  grant  a  totally  disabled  employe  a  pension. 
In  case  of  death,  they  sometimes  grant  the  dependents 
of  the  deceased  a  pension.  I  take  it  for  granted  that 
you  admit  these  facts,  and  that  you  can  conceive  of  a 
case  where  you  yourself  would  grant  a  pension." 

"Yes/'  answered  the  president,  frankly. 

"  I  believe  that  Mrs.  Burbanks's  case  is  such  a  one. 
Her  son  may  have  gotten  drunk,  and  may  have  used  a 
broomstick  to  set  a  brake,  and  it  was  doubtless  these 
two  infractions  of  your  rules  which  caused  his  death. 
But  certainly  neither  act,  nor  both  combined,  would 
have  resulted  in  his  death  in  a  less  hazardous  occupa- 
tion. That  is,  the  hazardous  work  you  gave  him  to  do 
was  one  of  the  factors  in  his  death.  You  are  respon- 
sible for  that  factor,  as  you  admit  by  sometimes  paying 
a  pension.  The  fact  that  he  accepted  the  work  with  a 
full  knowledge  of  its  hazardous  nature  does  not  reUeve 
you,  morally,  though  it  does  legally.  But  all  this  you 
admit.  Now,  as  to  the  other  half  of  the  case  I  hope  to 
make  against  you,"  and  he  smiled  a  little  for  the  first 
time,  "  I  need  say  nothing.  I  mean  the  necessity  for 
a  pension.  You  know  Mrs.  Burbanks's  impoverished 
condition.'* 

"  I  do,  and  I  feel  very  sorry  for  her,"  said  the  presi- 
dent, expelling  a  cloud  of  rich  smoke  with  somiC  gusto. 
"  I  always  take  great  pleasure  in  helping  such  people, 
personally.  I  would  take  pleasure  in  helping  Mrs. 
Burbanks  to-day.  But  you  are  not  asking  charity,  and 
Mrs.  Burbanks  refuses  charity,  I  understand.  You  are 
here  demanding  dues.  Well,  I  am  here  to  tell  you, 
Mr.  Kaltenborn,  that  there  are  no  dues.  You  speak  of 
railroad  pensions.     If  you  know  anything  about  such 


58  The  Darlingtons 

things,  you  know  that  they  are  rare  and  given  only  in 
cases  of  special  merit  —  not  to  drunks,  or  to  their 
mothers,  innocent  as  those  mothers  may  be.  That 
may  seem  hard  on  the  mothers,  to  you  ;  but  it  is  based 
on  strict  justice,  as  you  will  see.  Johnnie  Burbanks 
lost  his  hfe  through  drunkenness  and  insubordination. 
If  he  hadn't  been  drunk  and  hadn't  used  a  broom- 
stick in  a  brake-wheel,  he  would  have  been  alive  to-day, 
in  spite  of  his  hazardous  occupation,  which  you  seem 
to  make  a  point  on. 

''There  is  not  a  railroad  in  the  United  States,"  he 
continued,  '•  or  an  express  company,  or  any  other  cor- 
poration, that  would  grant  a  pension  under  those  cir- 
cumstances. There  is  not  a  court  in  the  land  that 
would  uphold  Mrs.  Burbanks's  claim  to  a  pension,  were 
pensions  a  matter  of  legal  compulsion.  Yet  I  am  willing 
to  admit  that  conditions  are  a  little  different  here.  We 
know  most  of  our  employes  personally,  and  we  perhaps 
take  more  interest  in  them  and  their  families  than  would 
be  the  case  with  a  great  railroad.  I  don't  mind  telling 
you,"  softening  his  voice  a  htde,  ''  that  so  far  as  I  am 
concerned,  personally,  I  would  willingly  give  this  woman 
a  pension.  But  it  would  only  be  charity,  and  as  presi- 
dent of  this  road  I  cannot,  in  justice,  vote  one  cent  for 
charity  without  the  consent  of  every  stockholder  in  it  — 
which  I  don't  think  I  could  get  in  this  case.  In  strict 
justice — and  that  is  what  you  are  talking  about  —  I 
couldn't  vote  away  one  cent  for  charity  without  the 
consent  of  the  /leirs  of  every  stockholder.  For  by  so 
doing  I  should  impose  a  policy  upon  this  road  that  we 
and  others  after  us  would  be  forced  by  public  opinion 
to  adhere  to.  It  isn't  a  mere  matter  of  one  case,  or 
of  dollars  and  cents.     It 's  a  fact  that  I  own  most  of 


The  Problem  of  Justice  59 

the  stock  of  this  road,  and  that  when  I  vote  away  two 
cents  of  all  the  other  stockholders'  money,  I  vote  away 
five  cents  of  my  own.  But  I  have  n't  the  right  to  vote 
away  that  two  cents  without  their  consent." 

"  Suppose  you  make  a  little  broader  application  of 
that  principle,"  interrupted  Kaltenborn.  "Some  of 
the  stockholders,  so  I  understand,  were  opposed  to  the 
erection  of  such  an  elaborate  building  as  this.  They 
thought  it  was  throwing  money  away  to  gratify  your 
pride.  But  that  did  n't  prevent  your  voting  the  neces- 
sary appropriation,  over  their  heads." 

"  That  was  an  entirely  different  case,  Mr.  Kaltenborn," 
answered  the  president.  "  That  was  merely  a  difference 
of  judgment.  I  thought  this  building  was  necessary ; 
they  did  n't.  My  interests  were  greater  than  theirs,  and 
I  carried  the  day.  If  I  am  right,  they  will  gain  by  it, 
with  me.  But  this  charity  business  is  another  matter. 
I  know  that  I  have  no  right  to  vote  money  that  way. 
The  amount  is  small,  of  course,  but  when  it  comes 
down  to  a  matter  of  principle,  one  cent  is  just  as  im- 
portant as  one  dollar,  or  a  thousand  of  them,  or  a  mil- 
lion, for  that  matter.  And  there  are  still  others  to  be 
considered.  I  refer  to  the  sober,  industrious  employes 
of  this  road.  If  any  money  is  to  be  given  away,  it 
ought  to  go  to  their  survivors ;  and  every  cent  voted 
for  such  cases  as  Mrs.  Burbanks's,  worthy  as  she  herself 
maybe,  is  an  injustice  to  some  sober,  hard-working  man 
who  as  certainly  as  our  trains  run  will  meet  death  some 
day.  No,  I  am  very  sorry,  Mr.  Kaltenborn,  but  I  can't 
take  your  view  of  the  matter.  I  have  given  this  matter 
considerable  thought  —  conscientious  thought,  as  I  said 
before.  Johnnie  Burbanks  was  a  worthless,  inefficient 
employe  who  died  while  drunk  on  duty,  and  to  pay  his 


6o  The  Darlingtons 

dependents  a  pension  would  be  putting  a  premium  on 
insubordination  and  inefficiency." 

The  president  finished  with  his  brown  eyes  glistening 
with  earnestness,  his  white,  shapely  hand  eloquently  in 
the  air.  Carol,  whose  cheeks  were  rosy  from  interest, 
heaved  a  tremulous  little  sigh  of  relief.  Whatever 
doubts  she  may  have  had  of  the  righteousness  of  her 
father's  course  were  removed  now.  She  thought  Kalt- 
enborn  also  must  be  convinced,  not  only  of  the  justice 
and  sincerity  of  her  father,  but  also  of  his  correct  posi- 
tion. He  did  not  look  it,  however.  His  face  was  set 
in  thought  as  he  slowly  turned  a  glass  paper-weight 
between  his  fingers,  and  a  tenacious  line  ran  through 
his  hps. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   CORPORATE   SOUL 

"You  said  that  Johnnie  Burbanks  was  worthless  and 
insubordinate,"  Kaltenborn  began,  as  though  laying 
down  his  premises. 

"  He  was/'  said  the  president ;  "  the  most  worthless 
employe  on  the  road.  He  could  n't  have  held  his  job 
a  day  on  any  other  road  in  the  United  States." 

"  Why  did  you  retain  such  a  worthless  employe  ?  Or 
why  did  you  hire  him  in  the  first  place?  "  asked  Kalt- 
enborn^ penetratingly.  "  You  must  have  known  his 
character.'* 

"Simply  and  solely  on  account  of  his  father's  ser- 
vices," said  the  president.  "He  —  his  father  —  died 
in  a  wreck.  He  was  one  of  our  oldest  and  most  faith- 
ful employes.  We  appreciate  that  kind  of  service,  and 
are  willing  to  show  our  appreciation  in  a  substantial 
way.  His  boy  could  n't  hold  down  a  job  anywhere 
else,  and  was  out  of  work,  and  we  took  him  on." 

''Then  you  felt  under  some  obligation  to  the 
family  ?  " 

"  Not  obligation  exactly,  though  I  suppose  you 
might  call  it  that." 

"  Then  you  simply  used  Johnnie  Burbanks  as  a  means 
of  discharging  that  obligation,  if  I  may  so  call  it,"  con- 
tinued Kaltenborn,  steadily. 


62  The  Darlingtons 

"^  That  was  all,"  assented  the  president,  but  beginning 
to  get  wary. 

"  You  did  n't  ask  the  stockholders'  permission  to  do 
that?" 

"  Certainly  not,"  answered  Darlington,  brusquely. 

"  Even  though  you  did  n't  regard  the  hiring  of  that 
boy  as  conducive  to  the  interests  of  the  road,  as  you  did 
the  erection  of  this  building?" 

'^  I  don't  call  a  meeting  of  the  directors  every  time  we 
hire  a  brakeman,"  returned  the  president,  rather  sharply. 

"  No,  and  I  should  n't  think  it  necessary,"  continued 
the  preacher,  calmly.  "  I  think  you  had  a  perfect  right 
to  discharge,  of  your  own  authority,  the  railroad's  obli- 
gation to  that  family  by  hiring  the  boy.  The  means 
you  employed  were  all  right.  But  now,  Mr.  Darlington, 
death,  with  or  without  any  culpability  on  your  part,  has 
removed  that  means.  Your  obligation  still  remains. 
Mrs.  Burbanks  has  done  nothing  to  forfeit  it.  Will  you 
let  it  lapse  merely  because  she  has  n't  another  son  to 
offer  you  ?  Is  that  your  only  means  of  discharging  your 
obligation  ?  Does  it  make  any  difference  to  her  whether 
the  money  comes  to  her  from  you  direct,  as  a  pension, 
or  through  her  son's  hands,  as  wages  ?  " 

Carol  looked  at  her  father  anxiously ;  the  railroad's 
case  did  not  seem  quite  so  clear  now.  Her  father 
twisted  around  in  his  chair  a  Httle,  and  threw  one  leg 
over  the  arm  of  it. 

"  You  forget  the  extent  of  the  obligation,  as  you  call 
it,"  said  he,  complacently.  "  It  was  not  perpetual.  If 
you  give  a  beggar  twenty-five  cents  a  week  for  a  year, 
because  he  stopped  a  runaway  horse  for  you,  you  don't 
have  to  keep  it  up  to  the  day  of  his  death,  to  discharge 
your  obligation." 


The  Corporate  Soul  63 

"If  young  Burbanks  had  not  been  killed,  you  would 
still  be  hiring  him,  would  you  not  ?  "  asked  Kaltenborn. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  the  president,  stiffly.  "  He 
was  getting  more  shiftless  every  day." 

"  But  if  he  had  n't  got  worse,  you  would  still  be  hiring 
him?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  suppose  so,"  he  admitted.  "  But 
there  is  a  difference  between  paying  a  pension  and  hir- 
ing a  man.  A  pension  is  a  clear  gift.  In  hiring  a  man 
we  get  some  service,  even  if  he  is  a  poor  man.  It  saves 
us  hiring  another  one." 

"  But  you  said  this  man  was  worthless,"  interrupted 
Kaltenborn,  dryly. 

"  He  was,"  repeated  the  president,  sharply.  "  But 
when  I  say  worthless,  I  don't  mean  that  he  could  n't  set 
a  brake  or  swing  a  lantern.  He  earned  some  of  his 
wages." 

"  About  how  much  ?  " 

"■  I  don't  know,"  answered  Darlington,  his  crest  be- 
ginning to  rise.     "  I  can't  split  hairs  like  that." 

"You  have  some  idea." 

"Well,  half  of  them,  say." 

"  And  you  paid  him  how  much  ?  " 

"  Thirty  dollars  a  month,  I  believe." 

"If  he  earned  only  half  of  that,  you  gave  him  out- 
right fifteen  dollars  every  month.  In  other  words,  you 
gave  Mrs.  Burbanks,  through  her  son,  fifteen  dollars  a 
month  for  which  the  road  got  no  return,  and  for  which 
you  expected  no  return.  She  would  be  satisfied  now, 
Mr.  Darlington,  with  half  that  much  a  month  as  a 
pension." 

Kaltenborn  turned  his  calm  gray  eyes  from  father  to 
daughter ;  but  railroad  stock  was  away  down  now,  and 


64  The  Darlingtons 

the  auditor  was  pressing  an  ivory  ruler  into  the  palm  of 
her  hand  until  the  pink  surface  was  barred  with  blood- 
red  lines. 

*' Your  logic  is  good,  Mr.  Kaltenborn,"  said  the  presi- 
dent, recovering  his  amiability.  "  You  make  a  good 
advocate.  You  ought  to  have  been  a  lawyer  instead  of 
a  preacher.  But  you  are  not  a  railroad  president  yet. 
You  look  too  hard  in  one  place.  You  forget  what  I 
said  about  a  precedent.  You  want  me  to  act  in  this 
matter  as  though  it  was  the  only  case  that  would  ever 
come  up." 

^' If  it's  right  to  give  this  pension,  as  you  seem  to 
have  just  admitted,  you  ought  to  be  willing  to  do  it 
regardless  of  precedents,"  said  Kaltenborn. 

"You  don't  beheve  that,  if  you  will  stop  to  think," 
returned  the  president,  shrewdly.  "  Would  you  do  a 
right  if  it  entailed  two  wTongs  upon  you?  Would  it, 
in  fact,  in  that  case  be  a  right?  That 's  what  I  'm  get- 
ting at." 

"  If  it 's  right  to  give  a  pension  in  this  case,  it  would  n't 
be  wrong  to  give  a  pension  in  all  future  cases  of  like 
nature." 

"  Certainly  not  —  if  the  public  would  only  discriminate. 
Every  case  would  be  a  like  case  with  them." 

"  Were  you  not  establishing  a  precedent  by  hiring  a 
worthless  man?"  pursued  the  minister. 

"No,"  answered  Darhngton,  flatly.  "That  didn't 
go  on  the  books  ;  it  is  n't  a  matter  of  record." 

"  It  was  a  voting  away  of  the  stockholders'  money  in 
pure  and  simple  charity ;  as  much  so  as  the  other  would 
be,"  persisted  Kaltenborn. 

"  Well,  what  would  you  have  had  me  do  ?  "  demanded 
the  other.     "  Harden  my  heart,  and  let  them  stifle  in 


The  Corporate  Soul  65 

poverty?"  The  president's  question  was  so  patent  a 
dodging  of  the  point  that  Carol  glanced  uneasily  at 
Kaltenbom. 

*'  No,"  he  said.  "  Nor  would  I  have  you  do  that 
now.  You  did  right.  You  simply  exercised  that  large 
discretion  with  which,  as  president  of  this  road,  you  are 
necessarily  invested.  I  would  have  you  exercise  the 
same  now.  Mr.  Darlington,"  he  went  on,  laying  aside, 
as  it  were,  his  clerical  habit,  and  leaning  over  the  desk 
familiarly,  "  don't  you  believe  that,  if  no  outsiders  had 
worried  you  about  this  pension,  and  if  i\Irs.  Burbanks 
had  always  been  a  little  more  discreet,  and  a  little  more 
grateful,  perhaps,  for  what  you  have  already  done  for 
her,  you  would  have  granted  this  pension,  not  for  her 
son's  sake,  but  for  her  husband's  sake  ?  " 

"  I  do  not,  for  the  reasons  I  have  stated,"  said  Mr. 
Darlington ;  but  his  buoyancy  was  gone,  and  he  looked 
tired. 

"  Don't  you  think  that  it  ought  to  have  been  granted  ?  " 
pursued  Kaltenbom,  with  an  insinuating  smile. 

'^  Certainly  not,  or  I  should  have  granted  it,"  retorted 
Darlington,  sharply,  and  Carol  herself  thought  Kalten- 
born's  remark  a  little  impudent. 

They  talked  an  hour  and  a  half,  going  over  the  same 
ground  again  and  again.  Neither  would  give  way  an 
inch.  Kaltenbom  made  his  points  in  the  same  quiet, 
persevering  way ;  his  manner  did  not  once  lose  its  mild- 
ness, though  his  words  were  sometimes  merciless.  The 
president  maintained  his  equanimity,  too,  pretty  well, 
but  he  looked  tired,  and  his  eyes  toward  the  end  wore  a 
worried  expression.  Yet  he  made  no  effort  arbitrarily  to 
end  the  interview,  and  he  met  Kaltenborn's  sallies  each 
time  with  a  patience  that  rather  surprised  his  daughter. 

5 


66  The  Darlingtons 

She  herself  was  afloat  on  a  sea  of  doubt.  When  her 
father  was  talking,  she  was  against  a  pension ;  when 
Kaltenborn  was  talking,  she  was  for  one  ;  when  neither 
talked,  she  was  both  for  and  against.  But  she  half  be- 
lieved, as  the  contest  drew  to  a  close,  that  her  father,  in 
his  heart,  wanted  to  grant  the  pension,  but  was  withheld 
by  pride  and  a  desire  to  maintain  his  original  position. 

At  last  they  seemed  to  be  done.  They  were  as  far 
apart  as  ever,  but  everything  that  could  be  said  had  been 
said  and  re-said.  Suddenly  Kaltenborn  turned  upon 
Carol  with  an  abruptness  that  starded  her,  and  asked, 
"  Miss  Darlington,  what  do  you  think?" 

"I  —  I  —  I  don't  know  just  what  to  think,"  she  faltered. 
"  There  seems  to  be  so  much  to  be  said  on  both  sides. 
But  I  think  —  that  is,  I  am  inclined  to  believe  —  I  should 
say  —  "  She  paused  an  instant,  oscillating  between 
her  conflicting  thoughts  ;  a  word,  a  glance,  would  have 
swung  her  decisively  one  way  or  the  other.  Kaltenborn 
would  not  give  it  —  his  face  said  as  much.  Her  father, 
too,  looked  at  her  impassively,  with  a  queer  light  in  his 
eyes.  "  —  I  should  say  that  my  father  is  right,"  she 
concluded. 

Darlington  quietly  lowered  his'  eyes,  but  with  a  baffled 
expression  that  puzzled  his  daughter.  Then,  when  it 
was  too  late,  a  terrible  suspicion  flashed  over  her.  He 
had  wanted  her  to  decide  against  him  !  She  saw  it  all 
clearly  enough,  she  thought.  She  saw  his  stubborn 
pride  fighting  against  his  heart,  and  possibly  —  she 
was  loath  to  admit  it  —  against  his  sense  of  justice. 
She  saw  him  grasping  at  her  as  a  drowning  man  grasps 
at  a  straw,  for  her  decision  against  him  would  have 
allowed  him  to  grant  the  pension  under  protest,  as  it 
were ;  and  then,  with  a  sense  of  bitter  shame,  she  saw 


The  Corporate  Soul  67 

herself  fail  him  —  not  in  loyalty,  but  in  that  spotless 
integrity  to  which  he  had  vainly  lifted  his  arms.  At 
the  crucial  moment  she  had  not  been  conscious  of 
weakness  or  vacillation ;  but  now  the  conviction  that 
she  had  been  weak  bore  down  upon  her  with  crushing 
force. 

At  her  answer  Kaltenborn  had  also  simply  dropped 
his  eyes,  in  what  was  probably  nothing  more  than  dis- 
appointment ;  but  to  Carol's  sensitive  mood  it  was 
scorn,  and  it  cut  her  to  the  heart.  It  angered  her,  too, 
for  it  seemed  to  imply  superior  virtue  in  him. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  Air.  Kaltenborn,  that  we  can't 
come  to  an  agreement  in  this  matter,"  Carol  next  heard 
her  father  saying,  "  but  you  see  things  one  way,  and  we 
another.  I  believe  you  are  honest  in  your  convictions ; 
I  ask  the  same  judgment  of  ours.  We  look  at  these 
things  from  a  different  standpoint.  Your  business  is 
different  from  ours.  You  get  to  looking  at  things  in  a 
different  light.  You  see  a  good  deal  of  suffering,  and 
your  sympathy  becomes  enlarged  until  possibly  you 
sometimes  mistake  mercy  for  justice." 

"  Not  in  this  case,"  said  Kaltenborn,  coldly,  as  he 
rose.  *'And  I  have  lived  too  long  to  come  into  a 
railroad  president's  office  with  a  case  of  sympathy." 

"  That  is  all  right,"  answered  Mr.  Darlington,  with  a 
meekness  that  surprised  Carol.  "  Sympathy  goes  further 
in  this  office  than  you  may  suspect.  I  have  a  good  deal 
of  sympathy  for  this  woman,  and  "  —  he  drew  a  twenty- 
dollar  note  from  his  vest-pocket  —  "  if  you  choose,  you 
may  give  her  that  with  my  compliments."  He  tossed 
the  bill  toward  Kaltenborn. 

Kaltenborn  buttoned  up  his  coat,  and  took  up  his 
hat.     "Well,  the  case  is  now  out  of  my  hands  —  and 


68  The  Darlingtons 

yours/'  he  said.  "  I  hope  that  your  conscience  is  as 
clear  as  mine.  I  pledged  myself  to  use  my  influence 
in  this  matter,  and  I  believe  you  will  admit  that  I  have 
done  it,  to  the  utmost.     Good-afternoon." 

"You  have  forgotten  your  bill,  I  guess,"  said  the 
president,  in  an  assumed  tone  of  carelessness. 

"  I  did  not  forget  it,''  answered  Kaltenborn,  pausing 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  has  a  disagreeable  duty  to 
perform.  "  I  left  it.  Mrs.  Burbanks  has  not  as  yet 
asked  for  charity.  She  will  no  doubt  have  to  accept 
it  soon,  but  I  cannot  advise  her  to  take  your  money. 
I  will  see,  though,  that  she  gets  its  equivalent."  And 
he  passed  out. 

"  Confound  his  impudence  !  "  growled  the  president 
deep  in  his  throat,  puffing  ferociously  at  his  cigar.  He 
took  two  or  three  turns  up  and  down  the  room,  furtively 
glancing  at  his  daughter,  who  was  still  toying  abstract- 
edly with  the  paper-knife.  "  What  did  he  mean  by 
saying  that  the  case  was  out  of  his  hands,  and  ours? 
Going  to  sue  ?  " 

"  He  could  n't  mean  that,"  answered  Carol,  preoccu- 
piedly,  but  she  did  not  say  what  she  thought  he  had 
meant.  She  suspected  that  Kaltenborn  referred  to  an 
Arbitrator  who  never  makes  mistakes,  and  she  had 
an  idea  that  her  father,  too,  suspected  as  much. 

"  Nine  preachers  out  of  ten  can't  give  anybody  but 
themselves  credit  for  conscientiousness,"  Mr.  Darlington 
continued,  complainingly ;  and  again  he  plunged,  neck- 
deep,  into  that  subject  which  he  had  just  assured  Kalten- 
born he  had  thought  closed  for  all  time.  He  threshed 
the  well-beaten  straw  with  vigorous  strokes,  as  though 
he  fully  expected  yet  to  beat  out  a  goodly  measure  of 
grain  from  the  empty  heads.     Carol  knew  well  enough 


The  Corporate  Soul  69 

what  he  wanted;  he  wanted  her  to  play  Kaltenborn, 
his  antagonist,  and  courteously  allow  herself  to  be 
routed  at  the  proper  moment,  —  a  man  of  straw,  to  be 
knocked  down  with  conscience-soothing  blows.  It  was 
a  role  that  she  had  dutifully  played  many  times  in  the 
past,  but  to-day  she  had  no  heart  for  the  comedy.  It 
was  too  much  like  tragedy. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  TUG   OF   CONSCIENCE 

Carol's  ride  that  afternoon  behind  Whitefoot  was  any- 
thing but  pleasurable.  She  drove  at  once  into  the 
country,  and  chose  the  least  frequented  road  she  knew 
—  hardly  more  than  a  weedy  lane.  The  town  was 
hateful  to  her  just  then.  Ordinarily,  the  busy  world, 
seen  through  her  alert,  practical  eyes,  seemed  throbbing 
with  pleasure  and  prosperity.  But  to-day  she  felt  so 
lonely  that  she  cried  behind  her  veil,  all  to  herself 
She  was  not  thinking  particularly  of  Mrs.  Burbanks 
either,  unless,  indeed,  it  was  to  dislike  her  as  the  in- 
direct cause  of  her  troubles. 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  beheld  her  father  as 
a  fallen  angel.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  an  unnam- 
able  something  stood  between  her  and  him  ;  and  in  the 
yellow,  chilly  sunshine  of  that  late  autumn  afternoon,  it 
seemed  to  her  that  this  something  could  never,  never 
be  removed.  The  thought  caused  her  another  little 
spasm  of  anguish.  She  had  seen  her  father  untrue  to 
himself,  and  he  had  seen  that  she  saw  it. 

For  years  she  had  noted  his  little  foibles,  had  humored 
them,  loved  them,  and  played  on  them.  But  what  she 
had  seen  to-day  was  not  so  innocent.  She  tried  to 
think  of  it  as  being  so ;  she  tried  to  think  of  it  as  only 
a  little  foolish  pride,  —  not  a  commendable  thing,  to 


The  Tug  of  Conscience  71 

be  sure,  yet  excusable.  But  that  haggard  look  in  his 
eyes  —  she  was  sure  now  that  it  was  haggard  —  branded 
her  excuses  as  lies  ;  and  she  knew  that  he  had  been 
troubled,  even  as  she  had  been  troubled,  with  thoughts 
of  the  destitute  widow  and  her  children  which  would 
not  down. 

Dinner  was  a  rather  gloomy  function  that  day  at  the 
Darlingtons'.  Neither  Carol  nor  her  father  had  much 
to  say.  After  the  meal,  he  took  his  paper,  and  retired 
to  his  study,  instead  of  reading  in  the  sitting-room,  as 
usual.  Mrs.  Darlington  waited  until  he  had  gone,  and 
then  asked  Carol,  in  what  the  latter  thought  a  ridicu- 
lously profound  tone,  what  had  been  decided  about 
Mrs.  Burbanks. 

"  As  I  understand  it,  mamma,"  answered  Carol, 
rather  sharply,  "  that  matter  was  decided  some  weeks 
ago.  The  interview  to-day  was  merely  a  courtesy  on 
papa's  part.     She  is  to  get  no  pension." 

Mrs.  Darlington  said  nothing.  She  had  outgrown 
the  folly  of  opposing  her  husband  when  once  his  mind 
was  made  up.  But  Ruth  spoke  up  warmly  :  "  I  don't 
care,  Carol ;  I  don't  think  it  would  hurt  papa  any  to 
give  them  a  pension,  with  Mr.  Burbanks  and  Johnnie 
both  dead  —  and  killed  on  our  road." 

*'  It  happens,  Ruth,  that  it  is  not  all  your  papa's 
money  to  give  away,"  said  Carol,  loftily. 

She  went  up  to  her  room  sadly  ruffled ;  but  she  had 
hardly  abandoned  herself  to  her  mood  when  Bert  came 
in  —  with  a  funereal  air,  it  struck  her.  Still,  he  hghted  a 
cigar,  and  leaned  his  tall  form  against  the  mantel-piece 
quite  comfortably.  "  What  did  you  and  father  do  about 
that  Burbanks  business?"  he  asked,  almost  the  first 
thing. 


72  The  Darlingtons 

'*  We  simply  stood  by  our  former  decision,"  answered 
Carol.  She  thought  he  might  have  asked  such  a  simple 
question  at  the  table. 

"  Father  is  dead  wrong  about  that,"  said  Bert,  bluntly. 

"Why  is  he  dead  wrong,  Mr.  Wiseman?  "  she  asked 
ironically. 

'•Because  he  is  bucking  public  sentiment,  for  one 
thing,"  said  he ;  "and  because  I  believe  we  are  duty- 
bound  to  keep  that  woman  out  of  the  poor-house. 
It 's  a  fair  and  square  case  for  a  pension,  if  there  ever 
was  one." 

"  Why  did  n't  you  come  in  there,  then,  to-day,  and 
say  so?" 

"  I  have  said  it  —  more  than  once,"  answered  Her- 
bert, with  a  shrug.  '^  But  when  father  wants  to,  he  can 
be  as  obstinate  as  any  intelligent  man  I  ever  saw." 

"  Bert,  he  is  7iot  obstinate  !  "  protested  Carol,  indig- 
nantly. 

"  It 's  true/'  conceded  Bert,  "  that  anybody  can  ap- 
proach him,  and  he  '11  listen,  and  be  governed  by  reason, 
too.  But  when  he  gets  started  on  the  wrong  tack,  there 
is  no  swinging  him.  For  instance,  those  rear  signals  on 
passenger  trains." 

They  both  smiled  at  recollection  of  the  incident,  in 
which  their  father  had  insisted  on  certain  colored  lan- 
terns being  used,  and  had  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the 
protests  of  every  employ^  on  the  road,  of  the  other 
officials,  of  the  directors,  and  of  everybody  else. 

"  He  was  obstinate  that  time,"  admitted  Carol,  laugh- 
ing. '^  But  do  you  suppose  for  one  minute,  Bert,"  she 
continued,  reproachfully,  "that  papa  would  keep  that 
woman  out  of  anything  that  he  honestly  thought  was 
due  her?" 


The  Tug  of  Conscience  73 

"  Of  course  not,"  answered  Bert,  and  Carol  fervently 
wished  she  could  have  had  his  simple  faith.  "  But  he 's 
been  pulled  and  hauled  until  he  does  n't  know  where  he 
stands.  Then,  on  top  of  it  all,  comes  this  preacher. 
It  ^s  a  wonder  he  did  n't  toss  him  out  of  the  window." 

''Have  you  seen  the  preacher?"  asked  Carol,  drolly. 

"  No.     Why  ?  " 

"  I  thought  not.  If  you  had,  you  would  n't  wonder  in 
that  way." 

"Big?"  asked  Bert,  smiling. 

*'  He  isn't  so  big,"  said  she  ;  *'  but,  as  old  Bill  Blue 
used  to  say,  *  pow'ful  firm,  pow'ful  firm.'  " 

*'  Poor  old  Bill ! "  murmured  Bert,  reminiscently, 
sending  a  cloud  of  smoke  down  toward  the  fire.  "  I 
saw  his  wife  over  at  Rankelman  the  other  day.  She 
looks  blacker  than  ever."  After  a  pause  he  continued. 
"  No,  I  honestly  believe,  sis,  that  if  they  had  given 
father  time,  if  they  had  n't  jumped  on  him  so  hard,  he 
would  have  granted  that  pension.  He  doesn't  believe 
that,  of  course.  He  has  been  bullied  so  long  that  all  he 
can  see  is  the  railroad's  side.  I  hope  not,  but  I  believe 
he  will  live  to  regret  his  decision  in  this  case." 

Carol  winced,  but  answered  pointedly :  "  And  yet 
to-day  you  backed  out  of  it,  and  shed  your  responsibil- 
ity gracefully  enough." 

Bert  flushed  a  little.  "  It  may  have  looked  so,"  he 
said  ;  "  but  I  was  n't  going  in  there  to  agree  with  father, 
and  how  would  it  have  looked  for  me,  an  official  of  the 
road  and  his  own  son,  to  go  in  there  and  fight  him 
before  an  outsider  and  in  the  outsider's  interest?  " 

"  You  would  n't  come  because  it  was  n't  dignified,  but 
you  left  it  all  to  me,"  said  Carol,  with  considerable  feel- 
ing, "  just  as  though  /  did  n't  have  any  dignity.     And 


74  The  Darlingtons 

you  knew,  Bert,  that  I  —  that  I  agreed  with  papa.  And 
then,  when  we  did  the  very  best  we  knew,  and  tried  — 
and  tried  to  be  just  to  everybody,  you  and  mamma  and 
Ruth  all  act  as  though  papa  and  I  were  —  dishonest !  " 
The  sob  that  had  choked  her  utterance  now  came  forth, 
and  abruptly  bursting  into  tears,  she  turned  and  threw 
herself  face  downward  across  the  bed. 

Bert  stood  in  silent  surprise  a  moment ;  then,  with  a 
smile,  he  walked  across  the  room,  and  sat  down  beside 
her.  "  Confound  it,  sis  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  I  did  n't 
say  any  such  thing,  or  think  such  a  thing.  Neither  did 
Ruth  nor  mother.     I  did  n't  blame  you,  anyhow." 

^'  I  am  just  as  bad  as  papa,"  she  sobbed. 

''  Neither  of  you  is  bad,"  protested  Bert.  "  That 's 
all  nonsense.  It 's  all  nonsense  for  you  to  be  crying, 
too.  I  can't  believe  that  father  is  right  in  this  matter, 
and  I  have  told  him  so.  But  nobody  is  imputing  any 
sinister  motive  to  him,  or  to  you,  or  to  anybody  else. 
You  are  too  sensitive  all  of  a  sudden.  Don't  you 
think  it  would  be  a  good  idea  for  you  to  apologize  to 
your  brother  for  such  unkindness?" 

He  laughed,  and  leaned  over,  and  playfully  pulled 
her  hands  away  from  her  face.  After  a  moment,  she  sat 
up,  and  pushed  the  hair  out  of  her  eyes,  and  laughed,  a 
little  shamefacedly. 

"  Forgive  me,  brother.  You  know  I  did  n't  mean 
anything.  But  I  feel  so  bad  about  this  thing.  I  'm 
afraid  maybe  papa  is  n't  right,  and  I  'm  afraid  that  may- 
be I  have  n't  been  as  honest  with  him  as  I  might  have 
been."  She  wanted  to  tell  Bert  of  the  momentous  in- 
stant when  Kaltenborn  had  appealed  to  her,  but  she 
was  afraid  of  doing  her  father  an  injustice.  "  It  is  n't  an 
easy  matter  to  decide,  Bert ;  and  if  it  were  put  to  you 


The  Tug  of  Conscience  75 

as  it  was  put  to  papa,  you  *d  think  a  long  time.  It 's 
easy  enough  to  settle  these  things  until  something  de- 
pends upon  your  decision.  Then  it  is  n't  so  easy.  If 
papa  was  n't  so  conscientious,  he  could  have  settled  it 
one  way  or  the  other  long  ago,  and  saved  himself  lots  of 
worry.  There  's  more  to  be  said  on  both  sides  than  I 
ever  dreamt  of  before  to-day.  I  thought  I  knew  all  about 
it,  but  —  men  are  natural  debaters,  I  beheve.  A  woman 
would  never  think  of  all  those  things." 

*'  Of  course  not,"  said  her  brother,  teasingly. 

"  But  I  think  she  would  decide  as  justly,"  she  quali- 
fied ;  "  only,  she  would  go  at  it  differently." 

At  that  moment  a  maid  announced  Mr.  Cash  Winter 
below. 

"  I  wish  he  had  come  at  any  other  time,''  said  Carol, 
rising,  and  looking  into  the  glass  of  her  dressing-table. 
"  My  complexion  is  a  fright  now,  thanks  to  Mrs.  Bur- 
banks.  How  do  my  eyes  look  at  a  distance?"  swing- 
ing around. 

"All  right,"  said  Bert,  vaguely,  snapping  his  watch. 
"  I  think  I  "11  go  down  town." 

^^  Are  you  sure  it's  down?"  she  asked,  as  she  touched 
her  flushed  cheeks  with  a  powdered  chamois-skin. 

"  Yes.  Elsie  's  at  choir  practice  to-night.  I  may  call 
for  her." 


CHAPTER  IX 

MOTHER   AND   DAUGHTER 

Carol  Darlington's  complexion  was  what  may  be 
called  a  composite.  She  had  her  father's  pearly,  trans- 
parent skin,  but  beneath  this  her  robust  English  mother 
had  laid  a  ruddy  background.  This  inlaid  coloring  was 
always  visible  in  Carol's  face,  —  delicate,  distant,  and  sub- 
dued ;  but  under  excitement  or  exercise  or  exposure  to 
the  wind,  the  under  hue  surged  to  the  front,  permeating 
the  pearly  enamel  with  a  ruddy  glow.  This  refreshing 
effect  Carol  was  pleased  to  denounce  as  ''  blowzy,"  and 
it  was  this  blowziness  that  she  was  now  trying  to  subdue 
with  powder. 

When  she  descended  to  the  music-room,  where  she 
knew  she  would  find  Winter,  Bert  was  standing  in  the 
centre  of  the  room,  with  his  hat  and  overcoat  on,  dis- 
cussing a  foot-ball  score  with  Winter.  The  latter  was 
seated  at  the  piano,  lightly  touching  the  keys  while  he 
talked.  He  was  a  perfectly  pressed,  perfectly  starched 
young  man  of  thirty  or  thereabouts,  with  a  shrewd  and 
kindly,  if  somewhat  worldly,  face.  His  mild,  well-bred 
eyes  were  without  depth;  his  hair  was  light  in  color, 
and  rather  thin  ;  his  face  v/as  bloodless,  and  suggestive 
of  weak  affections. 

Carol  saluted  her  visitor  familiarly,  and  as  soon  as 
Bert  had  gone,  sank  languidly  into  a  chair  close  to  the 
fire.      "  Play  something,  Cash,"  said  she. 


Mother  and  Daughter  j^ 

He  played  half  a  dozen  somethings  of  a  light  and 
popular  nature,  one  or  two  of  which  he  accompanied 
with  his  voice.  Then  he  left  the  piano,  and  dropped 
into  an  easy-chair. 

"You  play  something,"  he  said. 

She  lazily  told  him  that  he  did  n't  want  her  to  play 
anything.  He  insisted,  quite  as  lazily,  that  he  did. 
She  finally  got  up,  looked  leisurely  through  her  rack  for 
some  music,  failed  to  find  it,  and  started  to  play  from 
memory.  It  was  a  very  informal  time.  Carol  made  a 
mistake,  and  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  composition 
to  practise  the  difficult  part  a  little  —  without  apology 
and  without  embarrassment.  Then  she  came  back  to 
her  chair,  and  began  to  talk  about  horses. 

Winter  listened  to  her  remarks  on  Whitefoot's  cracked 
hoof  as  attentively  as  though  she  were  setting  up  a  new 
theory  of  light  or  heat.  He  suggested  several  good 
remedies,  and  mentioned  their  effect  on  his  horses' 
hoofs.  Carol  had  tried  most  of  them,  and  found  them 
failures,  she  said.  Next,  Winter  told  her  of  a  horse  he 
had  seen  that  day,  a  trotter,  with  a  record  of  2.20.  He 
suggested  that  Carol  should  buy  him  ;  but  she  shook  her 
head,  and  said  she  did  not  have  the  money,  and  that 
her  father  thought  the  stable  already  too  full  of  horses. 

However,  she  asked  for  a  description  of  the  horse 
and  the  name  of  the  owner.  When  Winter  gave  her  the 
name  of  a  farmer,  she  said  she  might  drive  out  that  way. 

He  asked  next  about  the  new  switch  tlie  railroad 
company  was  laying,  and  censured  it  as  being  too  circui- 
tous. He  sketched  a  diagram  of  the  H.  P.,  R.,  A.,  and  S. 
tracks  on  the  back  of  an  envelope,  and  showed  her  how, 
by  connecting  two  other  switches,  forty  rods  of  track 
could  be  saved. 


78  The  Darlingtons 

"  I  know,"  said  Carol,  listlessly.  "  We  thought  of 
that,  too ;  but  we  need  the  new  switch  to  make  up 
trains  on,  anyhow.     It  will  save  building  a  siding." 

She  in  turn  asked  about  the  improvements  on  the 
Ashboro  Inn,  of  which  hotel  Winter  was  owner  and 
manager,  and  he  launched  out  on  that  theme  for  per- 
haps the  hundredth  time  with  her.  The  dimensions, 
finishing,  wall-paper,  and  hard-wood  floors  of  the  hotel 
were  about  as  familiar  to  her  as  to  him.  When  he  came 
to  an  end,  Carol's  Hds  were  drooping  drowsily. 

"  I  'm  half  sick  fo-night,  Cash,"  said  she,  apologetically. 

"  Sick  or  lazy?  "  he  asked,  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone. 

"  No,  really,  I  feel  bad." 

"  I  feel  sick  myself,"  said  he,  rather  vaguely. 

"  Mine  is  over- work,"  Carol  explained,  with  a  flicker 
of  humor. 

"  That 's  what  the  doctors  diagnose  mine." 

A  pause  followed. 

"  I  have  been  re-hearing  the  Burbanks  case  again," 
said  Carol  presently. 

"  I  thought  that  was  settled.'" 

"  So  did  I,"  she  returned. 

"  I  should  think  your  father  would  leave  '  not  at  home  ' 
orders  with  the  office  boy  for  her  representatives." 

'•  Papa  is  too  conscientious  for  that,"  answered  Carol. 

W^inter  gave  her  a  half-quizzical  glance,  to  ascertain, 
apparently,  if  she  really  meant  it.     Evidently  she  did. 

^'  Who 's  handling  her  case  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  She  has  a  new  advocate  now,  —  the  Rev.  Stephen 
Kaltenborn,  of  the  M.  E.  Church.  Know  him?"  she 
asked  roguishly.  Presumably  Cash's  clerical  acquaint- 
ances were  not  numerous. 

"  Yes,  I  do.     He  stopped  at  the  hotel  a  day  or  two 


Mother  and  Daughter  79 

when  he  first  came  here.  Preachers  generally  board 
around  among  their  parishioners,  I  believe,  till  they  get 
settled.  He  does  n't  look  much  like  a  preacher.  I 
sized  him  up,  when  he  came  in,  for  the  advance  agent 
of  the  new  woollen  works,  —  or  something  hke  that." 

"  Oh,  Cash  ! "  she  murmured,  half  in  protest,  half  in 
merriment.     "  Don't  you  think  he  's  sincere  ?  " 

"  He  may  be  sincere  enough.  I  did  n't  see  anything 
to  the  contrary.  But  there  's  nothing  clerical  about  him. 
I  never  talked  with  him  any.  He  's  a  taciturn  kind  of 
a  fellow,  and  one  that  I  *d  hate  to  make  mad.  What 
kind  of  a  talk  does  he  put  up  ?  " 

"  Good  talk ;  he  argues  like  a  lawyer." 
"And  still  he  lost  his  case,"  he  smiled. 
"  Yes,"  said  Carol,  after  a  pause. 
"Your  father  is  right  about  it,"  said  Cash,  briskly. 
*'  Anybody  of  sense  ought  to  see  that ;  and  yet  you  'd  be 
surprised  to  hear  the  people  that  score  him  for  the  stand 
he  has  taken." 

Carol  wanted  to  ask  who,  but  she  did  not  suppose 
that  Winter  would  care  to  tell  tales ;  so  she  answered, 
defiantly,  '^  I  think  he  can  stand  it.  They  'd  abuse  him 
whichever  course  he  took.  If  he  granted  the  pension, 
there  would  be  talk  about  his  overruling  the  stockholders, 
just  as  there  was  in  the  case  of  the  new  building.  I 
notice  the  stockholders  are  keeping  pretty  quiet  about 
this  pension.  They  are  quite  willing  to  let  papa 
shoulder  the  responsibility." 

When  Winter  left,  about  ten  o'clock,  Carol  followed 
him  to  the  door,  where  he  lit  a  cigar.  Then  she  gave 
him  a  slim,  mobile  hand,  with  a  simple,  "  Come  again, 
Cash  ! "  and  walked  back  to  the  sitting-room,  stopping 
to  touch  up  her  hair  before  the  glass  in  the  hall-tree. 


8o  The  Darlingtons 

"  What  an  intellectual  time  Cash  and  I  always  have  ! " 
she  murmured,  smiling  at  herself  in  the  glass.  But  her 
face  quickly  sobered.  Some  joking  remark  of  Bert's 
about  Cash's  mental  limitations  had  come  to  her  mind 
with  unpleasant  force. 

In  the  sitting-room,  Ruth  sat  absorbed  in  a  book. 
Mrs.  Darlington  was  crocheting  a  man's  necktie,  —  a 
kind  of  domestic  work  then  in  vogue.  She  was  not 
much  of  a  reader.  Winifred  Colton  had  been  a  girl  of 
striking  beauty ;  and  even  now,  at  forty-seven,  the 
mother  of  three  living  children  and  two  dead  ones,  she 
was  a  woman  who  would  command  a  second  glance  any- 
where. Her  complexion  was  yet  as  fresh  as  a  girl's. 
She  was  undeniably  plump,  and  this  plumpness  was 
perhaps  unduly  emphasized  now  by  the  loose  gown  she 
wore  ;  but  in  street  or  dress  costume,  rigorously  stripped 
of  every  flounce  and  ruffle,  and  fitted  with  adroit  snug- 
ness,  she  exhibited  a  queenly  grace.  Her  hand  was 
almost  as  small  and  soft  as  when  Charles  DarHngton 
sued  for  it. 

For  years  none  of  the  family  had  been  able  to  inveigle 
Mrs.  Darlington  on  to  a  set  of  scales,  but  there  was  a  story 
in  the  domestic  circle  to  the  effect  that  she  weighed  a  few 
pounds  more  than  her  husband.  The  truth  of  this  she 
strenuously  denied,  but  always  with  a  queer  little  blinking 
of  the  eyes  and  a  guilty  flush  that  belied  her  words. 
When  the  automatic  penny-weigher  was  first  set  up  in  the 
waiting  room  of  the  H.  R,R.,A.,andS.,  Herbert  removed 
the  plate  which  explained  the  character  of  the  machine, 
and  lured  his  mother  on  to  the  platform  under  promise 
of  telling  her  fortune.  However,  as  the  long  pointer 
swept  around  the  face  of  the  dial,  its  real  office  flashed 
upon  Mrs.  Darlington,  and  she  stepped  off  the  platform 


Mother  and  Daughter  8i 

with  a  little  cry,  just  as  the  pointer  trembled  over  i6o. 
She  declared  afterward  that  it  had  already  come  to  a 
stop,  but  she  could  never  be  induced  to  prove  her 
statement. 

When  Winnie  Colton  married  Charles  Darlington,  she 
disappointed  those  friends  who  had  predicted  a  plain 
husband  for  her  on  the  popular  theory  that  beautiful 
women  always  marry  plain  men.  She  probably  also  dis- 
appointed, by  her  choice,  other  friends,  and  in  a  more 
essential  way.  Her  marriage  took  place  long  before  a 
railroad  presidency  loomed  on  young  Darlington's  hori- 
zon. He  was  then  chief  clerk  to  the  car  accountant  of 
a  Southern  railroad,  at  a  salary  of  twelve  hundred  a  year 
Before  that  —  and  not  very  long  before,  either  —  he  had 
been  a  telegraph  operator  in  the  general  offices  of  the 
same  road,  at  sixty  dollars  a  month.  Before  that,  he  had 
been  successively  an  apprentice  in  the  shops,  a  railroad 
news-agent,  a  fireman,  a  brakeman,  a  supply  conductor, 
and  a  station  agent. 

In  view  of  these  and  other  scraps  of  young  Darling- 
ton's history,  the  value  of  Winifred's  match  was  a  mooted 
question  among  her  friends.  Some  saw  beneath  the 
handsome  exterior  of  the  young  man  a  sterling  worth 
destined  to  carry  him  to  the  front  j  others  —  the  greater 
number,  perhaps  —  saw  in  him  a  restless,  capricious 
spirit,  impatient  of  the  ordinary  slow  approach  of  honors 
and  destined  to  send  him  flying  hither  and  thither  in  a 
vain  pursuit  of  fortune,  dragging  his  devoted  young  wife 
with  him,  and  leaving  her  ever  without  a  home. 

Both  sets  of  prophets  agreed,  however,  that  Winifred 
Colton  was  just  the  woman  to  handle  Charles  Darhngton. 
This  opinion  may  or  may  not  have  had  a  distant  and 
wholly  unobjectionable  reference  to  Darlington^s  widely 

6 


82  The  Darlingtons 

recognized  popularity  with  the  ladies,  and  to  a  certain 
catholicity  of  heart  in  him  which  made  him  the  victim 
of  every  woman  in  distress  —  especially  if  she  was 
pretty. 

With  rare  amiability,  Darhngton  brought  to  pass  the 
predictions  of  everybody.  He  did  drag  his  wife  from 
one  end  of  the  continent  to  the  other,  and  back  again ; 
but  whether  his  course  was  east  or  west,  north  or  south, 
it  was  always  upward.  This  partly  compensated  his 
wife  for  the  rough  jostling  she  received,  for  the  ever- 
present  uncertainty,  for  the  frequent  snapping  of  ties, 
and  the  periodical  immersion  into  a  community  of 
strangers. 

But  the  compensation  was  only  partial.  The  few 
hundreds  a  year  ■ —  later,  the  few  thousands  —  which  her 
husband  added  to  his  salary  by  these  successive  changes 
did  not  reconcile  her  fully  to  the  loss  of  a  home  she  had 
begun  to  love.  The  added  comforts  and  luxuries  these 
hundreds  and  thousands  bought  never  soothed  the  heart- 
ache of  the  long,  lonely  days,  when  Charles  was  busy  at 
the  ofhce. 

Once,  when  they  were  living  in  Cincinnati,  Mr.  Dar- 
lington came  home  to  their  six  o'clock  dinner  in  great 
haste,  with  the  announcement  of  a  ''  deal "  on  hand,  —  a 
word  his  young  wife  was  beginning  to  dread.  This  deal, 
he  said,  would  take  him  back  to  the  office  that  night,  and 
might  result  in  their  moving  to  Kansas  City  within  a  few 
weeks.  They  were  then  living  in  a  beautiful  cottage  on 
Walnut  Hills,  around  which  nest  of  a  twelvemonth  the 
tendrils  of  the  young  wife's  heart  had  just  begun  to  wrap 
themselves,  after  their  last  rude  disruption  in  Washing- 
ton, D.  C.  Herbert  was  then  two  years  old.  Carol  had 
not  yet  come,  but  was  expected.     That  night,  as  the 


Mother  and  Daughter  83 

young  wife  and  mother  stitched  away  at  the  little  filmy 
garments  which  have  been  baptized  in  so  much  of 
woman's  heart-blood,  her  tears  flowed  fast  and  free,  until 
at  last  she  could  no  longer  see  to  work.  With  a  little 
gasp,  she  dropped  the  fabrics  to  the  floor,  threw  herself 
desperately  upon  a  couch,  and  abandoned  herself  to  a 
tempest  of  grief. 

She  cried  until  her  bosom  was  sore  ;  then,  long  before 
her  belated  husband  came  home,  she  bathed  the  redness 
of  her  eyes  away,  combed  her  hair  anew,  and  put  on  the 
gown  that  he  most  admired.  She  met  him  at  the  door, 
long  after  midnight,  with  a  kiss.  Encircling  his  neck  with 
her  arms,  bare  half-way  to  the  elbows,  she  said,  "  Forgive 
me,  husband,  for  not  saying  at  dinner  that  I  was  glad  you 
might  get  a  better  position.  I  am.  And  I  am  so  proud 
of  you."  But  the  hope  she  had  been  harboring  in  her 
breast  took  wings  when  he  informed  her  that  he  had 
accepted  the  office  of  traffic-manager  of  the  Kansas  and 
Western  Railway,  and  that  they  would  move  in  two 
weeks.  She  could  not  help  laying  her  head  upon  his 
bosom  for  a  little  cry. 

In  time,  though,  she  became  able  to  subordinate  this 
home-love  to  her  pride  in  her  husband's  success.  Another 
and,  as  it  might  seem,  a  merely  trifling  circumstance 
caused  her  more  trouble  in  the  end.  She  could  not 
accustom  herself  to  the  fact  that  her  husband  had  been 
born  to  the  legacy  of  feminine  admiration  ;  such  admira- 
tion as  society  is  always  ready  to  bestow  upon  certain 
favored  mortals ;  an  admiraton  which  society  has  a 
perfect  right  to  give,  and  which  the  favored  mortal 
has  a  perfect  right  to  receive.  Mrs.  Darlington, 
though,  doubted  the  latter  right.  Her  husband  was 
all  the  world  to  her,  and   it  was    intolerable   pain  for 


84  The  Darlingtons 


her  to  think  that  she  was  not  all  the  world  to  him. 
Therefore,  in  the  beginning  of  her  wifehood,  while  her 
spirits  were  yet  as  high  as  a  colt's,  she  chafed  a  good 
deal  at  this  circumstance,  innocent  as  her  husband  was 
in  the  matter.  Sharp  words  passed  between  them  at 
times,  followed  on  her  part  by  scalding  tears  in  solitude 
and  miserable  hours  of  loneHness  and  remorse.  But  he, 
instead  of  getting  angry,  usually  laughed  at  her  foolish- 
ness, and  kissed  away  her  tears,  and  promised  never  to 
do  it  again,  without  knowing  just  what  he  had  done. 
Naturally,  he  always  did  it  again. 

But  there  came  a  time,  after  the  billing-and-cooing 
season  of  their  mated  life  had  waned,  when  her  husband's 
popularity  with  other  women  bothered  Mrs.  Darlington 
no  more.  She  learned  to  believe  what  she  had  always 
known  —  that  her  husband's  fidelity  to  her  was  a  rock 
upon  which  she  could  rest  in  security.  She  divided  his 
smiles  and  his  amiability  and  his  compliments  with  other 
women  ;  but  his  love  was  hers  alone.  As  time  went  on, 
he  less  often  kissed  her,  less  often  told  her  that  he  loved 
her,  but  she  took  it  all  for  granted.  If  her  heart  was 
hungry  at  times,  as  it  doubtless  was,  for  a  manifesta- 
tion of  his  love  in  the  old  way,  she  comforted  herself 
with  the  thought  that  her  husband  was  only  as  other 
men  are. 

Before  her  first  child  was  born,  she  had  many  a  lonely 
hour.  The  Darlingtons  lived  in  hotels  a  great  deal.  The 
first  three  or  four  months  in  a  new  town  were  usually 
spent  in  a  hotel,  while  Darlington  was  looking  for  a  suit- 
able home.  About  this  home  he  was  as  fastidious  as 
though  he  intended  to  end  his  days  there.  Frequently 
he  bought  a  place,  and  went  to  work  to  remodel  it,  which 
meant  several  months  more  of  hotel  life. 


Mother  and  Daughter  85 

Meanwhile,  they  picked  up  their  acquaintances  as  they 
could.  Darlington's  position  was  always  an  honorable 
one,  but  naturally  it  could  not  give  him  an  entrance  on 
short  notice  into  the  best  society,  for  his  work  took  him 
to  large  cities  only  —  railroad  centres  —  and  the  society 
of  large  cities  is  always  incrusted,  properly  enough,  with 
a  hard  shell.  The  Darhngtons,  therefore,  associated 
largely  with  railroad  officials  and  their  families.  It  was 
a  promiscuous  society  at  the  best,  without  traditions  or 
the  homogeneity  which  comes  from  traditions,  and  was 
always  changing,  just  as  the  Darlingtons  themselves 
were. 

It  was  a  "  railroad "  society,  strictly.  Success  in 
railroading  gave  an  entry  into  it ;  ex-brakemen,  ex- 
mechanics,  ex-agents  figured  in  it  under  sonorous  titles, 
after  the  manner  of  Charles  Darhngton  himself.  But, 
unfortunately,  these  self-made  men  had  not  all  picked 
up  the  social  graces  of  Charles  Darlington,  nor  had 
they  picked  up  such  a  wife  as  his.  They  were  likely 
to  talk  "  railroad  "  of  an  evening,  and  to  yawn  a  good 
deal  when  any  other  subject  was  brought  up.  It  was 
not  a  society,  therefore,  in  which  Mrs.  Darlington 
found  great  pleasure,  and  she  probably  appeared  in  it 
less  often  than  was  her  privilege  ;  certainly  less  often 
than  her  husband.  Consequently,  when  she  did  go  out, 
she  found  that  her  husband  knew  the  officials  and  their 
wives  a  great  deal  better  than  she  knew  them,  —  a  fact 
not  especially  gratifying  to  her. 

With  her  babies,  though,  there  came  a  change. 
Maternity  was  strong  in  her,  and  she  willingly  sunk  her 
life  in  her  little  ones.  Darlington  sometimes  complained 
that  she  gave  them  too  much  of  her  time.  He  loved 
them,  too,  in  his  way,  but  their  heads  were  nearly  level 


86  The  Darlingtons 

with  his  shoulders  before  he  fully  awoke  to  his  father- 
hood. He  then  devoted  himself  to  them  with  the  same 
ardor  which  characterized  him  in  business.  He  took 
on  the  new  hfe  which  children  bring  to  their  parents  as 
their  greatest,  highest  gift.  He  loved  to  study  their 
different  temperaments,  and  to  make  glowing  prophecies 
based  thereon. 

Without  discriminating  against  the  others,  he  espe- 
cially loved  Carol.  Her  little  shrewdnesses  and  girlish 
cynicisms,  her  early  practicahty,  delighted  him.  From 
the  time  she  was  fifteen,  he  had  always  talked,  only 
half-jestingly,  of  making  a  railroad  president  out  of  her 
some  day.  In  hke  manner  the  mother  had  turned  to 
Herbert,  a  manly,  affectionate  boy,  not  as  keen  as  might 
be,  but  with  a  heart  as  soft  as  a  woman's,  and  an  unas- 
sailable honesty.  Here  in  Ashboro,  where  they  were 
presumably  settled  for  life,  these  same  parental  prefer- 
ences continued  to  prevail,  and  were  understood  and 
returned  by  the  respective  children  without  any  unlovely 
partisanship  in  the  family. 

The  adolescence  and  maturity  of  the  children  wrought 
one  other  change  in  the  parents.  The  caresses  and 
Httle  womanly  dotings  which  Mrs.  Darlington  once 
lavished  on  her  husband  were  now  lavished  on  her 
only  son,  who  seemed  to  need  them  more,  and  to  care 
for  them  more.  At  least,  he  repaid  them  in  kind,  which 
Charles  Darlington  did  not.  Yet  Mrs.  Darlington's 
allegiance  to  her  husband  never  wavered.  She  was 
as  ready  as  ever  to  praise  him,  soothe  him,  cheer  him  ; 
she  Hstened  to  his  "  schemes  "  —  when  he  confided 
them  to  her  instead  of  to  Carol  —  as  sympathetically 
as  though  his  ambition  were  but  the  counterpart  of 
hers  j  she  was  as  proud  of  him  as  ever  j  and  compared 


Mother  and  Daughter  87 

him   with   other   women's   husbands   only   to   be    still 
prouder. 

This  steady,  unimpassioned  love  of  a  middle-aged 
woman,  which  neither  asks  reward  nor  expects  it,  which 
is  given  as  a  flower  gives  its  fragrance,  is  perhaps  the 
divinest  thing  this  side  of  heaven. 


CHAPTER  X 

A  PHANTOM   OF  THE  NIGHT 

''  I  don't  know  whether  your  father  will  like  this  shade 
of  red  or  not,"  observed  Mrs.  Darlington,  holding  the 
tie  out  for  Carol's  inspection.     "  It's  pretty  bright." 

*'  When  did  you  ever  know  anything  to  be  too  bright 
for  papa  ? "  asked  Carol,  looking  off  the  newspaper  she 
had  picked  up.     "Where  is  he  to-night?  '' 

"  Is  n't  there  a  directors'  meeting  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  had  forgotten.  There  is  some  trouble 
about  the  right-of-way  of  the  new  switch.  Old  Mrs. 
Eldridge  owns  a  little  triangular  plat  of  ground  next  to 
Smithson's  warehouse,  and  the  new  track  cuts  off  the 
point  of  it.  She  won't  sell  or  rent  perpetually  for  any 
reasonable  sum,  and  I  suppose  we  '11  have  to  start  con- 
demnation proceedings.  The  part  we  want  is  too  narrow 
to  build  a  lemonade-stand  on,  and  is  utterly  useless  to 
her.  If  there  was  ever  a  case  where  old  age  is  a 
stumbling-block  in  the  path  of  progress,  as  Mr.  Whitson 
said  last  Sunday,  that  is  it." 

Ruth  lifted  her  eyes  from  her  book,  and  flashed  Carol 
a  glance  of  hearty  sympathy.  Mrs.  Darlington  answered, 
after  a  pause  :  "  She  does  seem  to  get  on  the  wrong 
side  of  everything ;  but  I  presume  she  thinks  she 's 
right.  She  's  old,  and  lives  up  there  all  alone,  and  I 
think  she  fancies  everybody  is  trying  to  cheat  her  out 


A  Phantom  of  the  Night  89 

of  her  money.  Her  own  children  have,  and  that 's 
enough  to  embitter  anybody." 

"  Oh,  she  has  cause  enough  for  her  crankiness,  I 
suppose,'^  answered  Carol,  with  a  slight  yawn.  "  But 
that  doesn't  make  it  any  less  annoying.  I  think  she 
could  qualify  perfectly  for  the  Better  Dead  Club.'' 

''  I  would  n't  speak  in  that  way,  though,"  said  her 
mother. 

"  It  is  n't  kind  —  or  very  ladyhke,  I  suppose,"  ad- 
mitted Carol,  laying  down  her  paper  and  watching  her 
mother  work.  "  But  she  's  such  a  stingy,  unpleasant, 
shrewish  old  person  that  I  can't  think  of  her  with 
patience." 

"  I  wonder  what  John  is  doing  now,"  said  Mrs. 
Darlington,  presently. 

''  I  understand  he  is  going  to  get  married,"  answered 
Carol,  with  a  sarcastic  smile.  '^  He  's  out  of  work,  and 
he  can't  bleed  his  mother  any  longer ;  so  I  suppose  he 
has  to  do  something." 

"  I  feel  sorry  for  the  girl,"  put  in  Ruth. 

"  I  don't,"  said  Carol,  decidedly. 

"Who  is  she?"  asked  Mrs.  Darlington. 

"  I  don't  know ;  some  girl  in  Huxford.  She  must 
know  what  he  is,  and  I  think  she  is  marrying  him  on 
account  of  his  prospects.  John  will  inherit  about  fifty 
thousand,  if  the  old  lady  does  n't  cut  him  off." 

"  I  feel  still  sorrier  for  her,  if  that 's  the  case,"  said 
Mrs.  Darlington.  "  If  she  loved  him,  she  could  put  up 
with  his  weaknesses,  in  a  way.  But  if  she  's  marrying 
for  money  —  "  She  paused  to  observe  her  work,  and 
did  not  finish  the  sentence.  "  I  wonder  if  I  have  n't 
got  this  too  narrow,  after  all,"  said  she,  comparing  her 
work  with  one  of  Mr.  Darlington's  ready-made  ties. 


90  The  Darlingtons 

Carol  glanced  at  it,  but  said  nothing.  She  was  not 
an  authority  on  fancy-work. 

"  Hold  it  up,  mamma,"  said  Ruth,  from  her  book. 
"  That 's  all  right.  They  tie  easier  when  they  are 
narrow." 

For  a  few  minutes  the  silence  was  broken  only  by 
the  ticking  of  the  clock  and  the  charring  of  the  coal  in 
the  grate.  Ruth  was  again  buried  in  her  book.  Carol's 
eyes  floated  over  the  paper,  stopping  at  a  headline 
here  and  there  ;  but  her  mind  continually  reverted  to 
Mrs.  Burbanks's  case.  Her  conscience  did  not  prick 
her  so  sharply  now,  but  her  thoughts  had  a  melancholy 
tinge.  Kaltenborn's  expression  at  her  grand  fiasco, 
as  she  chose  to  think  it,  also  irritated  her  in  the 
recollection. 

"  Has  Cash's  sister  come  yet?"  asked  Mrs.  Darling- 
ton. She  put  the  question  without  pausing  in  her 
work,  but  there  was  a  subtle  change  in  her  voice  which 
the  years  had  taught  Carol  to  recognize  as  indicating 
disapprobation. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered.  "  I  suppose  not. 
He  did  n't  say  anything  about  it." 

'•'  Shall  you  call  on  her?  " 

Ruth,  for  all  her  oblivion,  raised  her  head,  and  gave 
Carol  a  sly,  comical  look. 

"  Why,  certainly,  mamma,"  answered  Carol.  ''  Why 
should  n't  I  ?  It  would  n't  be  very  complimentary  to 
Cash  if  I  didn't." 

''  Of  course,  if  you  are  invited  up,  you  will  have  to 
go,"  admitted  Mrs.  Darhngton. 

*•'  I  shall  have  to  go  whether  I  'm  invited  or  not, 
mamma.  It's  just  as  incumbent  upon  me  to  call, 
under  the  circumstances,  as  though  I  had  been  invited." 


A  Phantom  of  the  Night  91 

"  I  don't  like  your  running  up  to  that  hotel,  that 's 
all,"  answered  her  mother. 

"  I  won't  run  there  much/'  said  Carol. 

"  It  would  be  a  poor  return  for  Cash's  attentions  if 
you  did  n't  go  there  while  his  sister  is  here,"  said  Ruth, 
with  a  roguish  look.  She  knew  just  about  how  welcome 
Mr.  Winter's  attentions  were  to  her  sister,  and  she 
knew  also  the  effect  this  remark  would  have  on  her 
mother,  who  had  lived  twenty-seven  years  in  a  joking 
family  without  learning  how  to  take  a  joke. 

"  I  fancy  Carol  has  made  him  about  all  the  return 
she  makes  other  young  men  who  call  here,"  spoke  up 
Mrs.  Darlington. 

"  You  must  be  getting  a  good  deal  of  sense  out  of 
that  book,  Ruth,"  observed  Carol,  dryly. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  that 's  enough  or  not, 
mamma,"  said  Ruth,  ignoring  Carol's  thrust. 

"Ruth,  will  you  stop?"  demanded  Carol,  authori- 
tatively. 

Ruth  turned  to  her  book  with  a  smile,  and  Mrs. 
Darlington  also  was  silent.  Again  the  only  sound 
in  the  room  was  the  palpitations  of  the  nervous  little 
clock  that  squatted  on  a  highly  ornamental  bracket  fixed 
to  the  wall.  Outside  all  was  still  save  for  the  soft 
respirations  of  the  new  electric-light  plant,  which  ran 
till  twelve  o'clock.  From  where  Carol  sat  she  could 
see  two  or  three  illuminated  v/indows  in  the  office- 
building,  where  the  directors  were  holding  their  late 
session.     With  these  exceptions,  the  town  was  asleep. 

Yet  not  quite.  A  faint,  distant  halloo  floated  into  the 
room.  The  girls  kept  on  reading,  but  Mrs.  Darlington's 
fingers  came  to  a  rest.  She  lifted  her  head  in  a  listen- 
ing  attitude,  and  then  glanced   at  Carol.     The   latter 


92  The  Darlingtons 

not  looking  up,  the  mother  resumed  her  work  after  a 
moment,  but  still  retained  an  attentive  posture. 

Soon  the  halloo  was  repeated,  this  time  nearer,  and 
more  like  a  cry  of  distress.  Mrs.  Darlington  threw 
up  her  head,  like  an  alarmed  deer,  her  back  rigidly 
straight,  her  eyes  gleaming.  The  girls  still  read  on. 
Their  mother  glanced  from  one  to  the  other,  and  their 
tranquil  mien  again  reassured  her,  for  she  relaxed  a 
little.  But  as  she  did  so  the  cry  was  once  more  re- 
peated, still  nearer,  three  times  in  close  succession. 

'' Carol,  did  you  hear  that?"  demanded  Mrs.  Dar- 
lington, quickly. 

"Yes.  It's  probably  a  crowd  of  boys,"  answered 
Carol,  carelessly,  but  she  shifted  the  paper  to  hide  her 
face,  which  had  suddenly  grown  as  white  as  marble. 
Ruth  also  looked  up,  alarmed,  Mrs.  Darlington  laid 
her  work  down  hurriedly,  and  noiselessly  slipped  into 
the  front  room,  where  the  windows  commanded  a  view 
of  the  sloping  street  leading  down  toward  the  business 
part  of  the  town. 

For  a  moment  all  was  quiet  again,  and  the  color  was 
beginning  to  return  to  Carol's  face  when  a  series  of 
fierce  yells,  not  a  block  away,  rent  the  air.  They 
apparently  proceeded  from  a  man  crazy  drunk.  Mrs. 
Darlington  suddenly  re-appeared  in  the  doorway,  with 
a  white  face.  ''Carol!"  she  moaned,  sinking  into  a 
chair,  with  her  hands  pressed  tightly  against  her  face. 

Carol  quickly  rose,  retaining  her  paper  in  her  hand. 
She  was  still  pale  to  the  lips,  but  they  were  set  firmly, 
and  her  eyes  shone  with  determination.  At  this  de- 
monstration on  her  sister's  part,  Ruth  dropped  her 
book  to  the  floor,  and  sprang  up,  with  a  lively  terror  on 
her  face. 


A  Phantom  of  the  Night  93 


li 


Stay  right  where  you  are  ! "  commanded  Carol  of 
the  girl.  ''  I  can  take  care  of  him,  mamma.  Don't 
fret !  " 

She  drew  to  the  sliding-doors  connecting  with  the 
front  room,  and  also  those  opening  into  the  hall  j  then 
leaning  against  the  latter,  she  waited,  with  her  hands 
tightly  clasped  together.  Mrs.  Darlington  did  not 
change  her  stricken,  bowed  attitude ;  she  might  have 
been  in  prayer.  Ruth  began  to  sob.  Carol  glanced 
from  one  to  the  other,  but  at  that  moment  she  was 
far  above  grief  herself.  She  was  strung  for  sterner 
work. 

The  cries  outside,  as  they  slowly  approached  nearer 
and  nearer,  grew  more  like  those  of  a  maniac  than  of  a 
drunken  man.  They  were  not  mere  incoherent  sounds. 
The  most  piteous  pleadings,  the  most  awful  threats, 
and  blood-curdling  blasphemies  followed  one  another 
with  furious  vehemence.  There  was  no  break  in  the 
breathless  harangue  ;  the  torrent  flowed  steadily,  though 
sometimes  sinking  to  unintelligible  mutterings,  some- 
times rising  to  shrieks  of  impotent  rage.  Then  the 
noise  of  scuffling  feet  on  the  sidewalk  became  audible 
to  the  motionless  hsteners  inside,  and  the  sounds  of 
conflict  —  grunts,  sharp  exclamations,  labored  breath- 
ing, and  muffled  blows. 

The  hideous  commotion  halted  directly  in  front  of 
the  house  for  a  moment,  and  next  the  trampling  was 
transferred  from  the  public  board-walk  to  the  Darling- 
tons'  tiled  walk.  Next  it  struck  the  front  steps,  where 
it  raged  worse  than  ever  for  a  little,  and  then  suddenly 
subsided. 

"  I  wish  your  father  was  here  I "  murmured  Mrs. 
Darlington,  helplessly. 


94  The  Darlingtons 

Without  answering,  Carol  opened  the  door  she  had 
been  leaning  against,  stepped  out  into  the  hall,  and 
closed  the  door  behind  her.  Upon  reaching  the  double 
front  doors,  she  stood  irresolute  and  afraid  for  a 
moment,  with  her  hand  upon  the  knob.  Then  she 
threw  the  doors  wide  open,  letting  a  broad  flood  of 
light  out  into  the  night. 

Ashboro's  one  public  night-watchman,  uniformed  at 
the  expense  of  the  H.  P.,  R.,  A.,  and  S.,  stood  on  the 
doorstep,  panting,  with  the  perspiration  running  down 
his  face.  His  cap  was  jammed  over  his  eyes.  He 
held,  in  a  grip  of  iron,  tight  against  his  huge  chest,  a 
struggling,  kicking,  screaming,  biting,  hatless,  coatless 
thing.  The  latter's  hair  streamed  down  over  his 
forehead  into  a  pair  of  wild,  maniacal  eyes,  giving  him 
somewhat  the  appearance  of  an  idiot.  His  clothes, 
such  as  were  left  upon  him,  were  ripped  and  torn  and 
shredded  until  he  bore  a  vague  resemblance  to  a  rag- 
bag. None  but  an  intimate  would  have  recognized  in 
this  uncouth  and  terrifying  wretch  the  neat,  manly, 
soft-spoken  Herbert  DarHngton. 

"I  will  take  him,"  said  Carol,  firmly. 

"He's  pretty  bad  to-night,  Miss  Darl'n'ton,"  gasped 
the  policeman,  doubtfully  eyeing  the  slender  arms  she 
extended. 

*'  I  will  take  him/'  Carol  repeated. 

After  another  moment  of  hesitation,  the  officer  cau- 
tiously released  his  victim.  He  had  no  sooner  done  so 
than  the  unfortunate  youth,  recognizing  neither  home 
nor  sister  in  his  delirium,  aimed  a  blow  at  Carol  which, 
had  it  struck  her  fairly,  would  have  felled  her  to  the 
floor.  His  aim  was  poor,  however,  and  she  received 
only  a  glancing  touch  on  the  shoulder,  yet  heavy  enough 


A  Phantom  of  the  Night  95 

to  make  her  reel  and  strike  the  wall.  With  a  cry  of  ex- 
ecration, the  burly  officer  sprang  forward,  and  again 
pinned  Herbert's  arms  to  his  side. 

"Can  you  carry  him  upstairs,  Mr.  Ryan?'^  asked 
Carol,  still  calm. 

"  I  've  done  it  more  than  once,"  he  answered,  with 
pardonable  pride.  But  before  the  feat  was  accom- 
plished this  time,  the  banisters  bore  more  than  one  dent 
and  scratch.  Carol  led  the  way  down  the  hall,  threw 
open  the  door  to  Bert's  room,  and  flashed  on  the  elec- 
tric light.  Promptly,  and  without  direction  from  Carol, 
the  officer  threw  his  captive  upon  the  bed  by  main 
force,  and  coolly  deposited  his  own  huge  bulk  across 
the  prostrate  man's  knees.  With  one  hand  he  pin- 
ioned Bert's  wrists  together  upon  his  chest ;  the  other 
he  closed  with  no  gentle  pressure  around  his  throat, 
shutting  off  the  appalling  noise.  Then,  and  then  only, 
did  the  miserable  victim  cease  his  revilings,  while  he 
still  glared  at  his  captor  with  the  glittering,  vengeful 
eyes  of  a  throttled  brute. 

Carol  made  no  remonstrance  against  these  heroic 
measures.  As  cool  as  her  brawny  coadjutor  himself, 
she  stepped  back  and  opened  the  drawer  of  a  chiffonier. 
After  a  moment  she  advanced  with  a  little  shining  in- 
strument between  the  fingers  and  thumb  of  her  right 
hand.  Bert's  shirt-sleeves  were  so  torn  that  there  was 
no  need  to  push  them  up  to  get  at  the  flesh  of  his  fore- 
arm. With  fingers  that  trembled  slightly,  she  inserted 
the  needle-like  point  of  the  hypodermic  syringe  under 
his  skin,  and  gave  the  piston  a  steady,  slow  pressure 
with  her  thumb,  sending  the  benumbing  morphine  into 
his  wildly  coursing  blood. 

It  was  ten  minutes,    though,  before  the  officer  re- 


96  The  Darlingtons 

moved  his  weight  from  Bert's  knees,  and  another  five 
before  he  released  his  grip.  In  the  meantime  he  talked, 
not  with  forced  volubility,  on  some  irrelevant  theme, 
but  with  well-timed  pauses,  on  the  matter  in  hand.  He 
told  Carol  where  he  had  found  Bert  —  in  sole  posses- 
sion of  a  low  grog-shop,  from  which  the  youth  had  ex- 
pelled proprietor  and  customers.  He  kindly  estimated 
for  her  the  damages  Bert  had  done  there,  including  a 
plate-glass  front  next  door;  and  thought  they  would 
not  be  more  than  half  of  what  they  had  been  the  time 
before.  He  compared  Bert's  case  vvith  similar  cases 
he  had  known  or  heard  of,  and  said  that  it  beat  his 
time ;  he  could  not  understand  these  periodical  — 
spells.  He  could  understand  easy  enough  how  a  man 
could  take  a  drink  every  day,  or  twenty  times  a  day. 
He  had  done  it  himself,  once.     But  this  other  ! 

Carol  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  leaning  lightly 
against  it,  and  watched  the  drug  do  its  subtle  work. 
Her  pallor  had  given  way  to  a  feverish  flush.  She  list- 
ened in  an  abstracted  way  to  the  policeman's  ramblings, 
but  was  conscious  of  being  soothed  by  his  strong,  vi- 
brant voice.  When  Bert's  lids  had  slowly  closed  in  the 
unnatural  slumber  produced  by  the  opiate,  she  got  a 
blanket  and  spread  it  over  him.  The  burly  blue-coat 
meanwhile,  standing  aside,  made  a  pretence  of  adjust- 
ing his  tie,  which  had  gotten  askew  in  the  affray,  and  of 
brushing  some  dust  from  his  sleeves.  He  also  be- 
thought him  to  take  off  his  cap,  which  he  did,  expos- 
ing a  bald  spot  on  the  top  of  his  head,  though  his  hair 
curled  thickly  elsewhere. 

"  Well,  I  guess  that 's  all,"  said  he,  cheerfully,  as  they 
stepped  out  into  the  hall. 

"Yes,   I  guess  that's  all,"  answered  Carol.     When 


A  Phantom  of  the  Night  97 

they  reached  the  front  door,  she  gave  him  her  hand, 
and  said,  with  a  little  grateful  smile,  *' Good-night,  Mr. 
Ryan!"  As  his  thick  hand  closed  around  her  slim 
fingers  and  his  head  came  down  in  a  heavy  bow,  there 
could  be  little  doubt  about  his  having  been  compensated 
for  his  pains. 

Carol  went  back  to  the  sitting-room,  and  sat  down 
beside  her  mother,  who  was  staring  into  the  fire  with 
tearless,  vacant  eyes.  The  daughter  took  her  hand,  but 
said  nothing.  There  was  nothing  to  say.  All  that  could 
be  said  had  been  already  said,  over  and  over  again,  for 
Bert  had  been  brought  home  in  this  sad  plight  many 
times  before.  Yet  the  shock  was  unusually  severe  to- 
night. He  had  held  out  for  six  months  this  time,  — 
the  longest  he  had  ever  gone  since  his  first  fall ;  and 
the  family  had  begun  to  believe  that  at  last  he  had 
downed  his  old  enemy  for  good.  Only  a  few  nights  be- 
fore, Mrs.  Darlington  had  returned  thanks,  in  her  bed- 
side prayer,  for  the  strength  which  had  been  allowed 
Herbert  in  the  months  gone  by.     And  now  — 

She  could  not  bear  to  carry  her  retrospection  further. 
Yet  in  that  moment  of  family  shame  and  disgrace,  her  love 
and  sympathy  went  out  most  strongly  to  the  unfortunate 
author  himself  of  all  the  evil.  She  knew  that  the  chas- 
tener  Remorse  was  even  then  heating  his  cruel  though 
beneficent  irons,  to  burn  once  more  the  already  scari- 
fied bosom  of  her  dear  boy.  She  knew  how  those  irons 
would  hurt  as  his  flesh  shrivelled  under  the  consuming 
touch ;  and  she  knew  how  he  would  set  his  teeth,  in 
his  solitude,  and  bear  his  fearful  punishment  like  a 
man. 

While  a  student  at  Princeton,  on  a  lark  in  New  York 
City,  Bert  Darlington  took  his  first  drink.     The  spree 

7 


98  The  Darlingtons 

which  followed  amazed  and  terrified  his  companions. 
The  gentle  youth  suddenly  became  an  irresponsible, 
destructive,  homicidal  maniac.  He  danced,  shouted, 
and  swore  ;  he  broke  the  water  pitcher  over  the  head 
of  one  of  his  comrades,  and  hurled  the  bowl  at  another ; 
he  smashed  pictures,  punched  out  the  window-hghts, 
threw  bedding  and  furniture  out  of  the  hotel  window 
into  the  street  below,  and  finally,  in  a  most  appalling 
fit  of  frenzy,  bhndly  gashed  the  walls  with  his  knife. 

His  companions,  scarcely  tipsy  themselves  —  for 
little  had  been  drunk  —  fled  in  terror,  locking  the  door 
behind  them.  For  an  hour  the  imprisoned  youth  ren- 
dered the  night  hideous  with  his  infuriated  yells ;  then, 
finishing  the  whiskey  his  friends  had  left  behind,  he  fell 
into  a  stupor.  He  was  saved  from  a  night  in  jail  only 
by  the  solemn  asseverations  of  his  companions  to  a 
policeman  that  he  was  suffering  from  a  temporary  fit  of 
insanity,  to  which,  they  alleged,  he  was  subject. 

Thus  sprang  into  being,  in  a  moment  as  it  were,  the 
devil  which  henceforth  was  to  give  Herbert  Darlington 
no  peace ;  which  was  to  degrade  him  at  will ;  which, 
with  a  wave  of  its  ugly  cloven  hoof,  was  to  make  of  him 
a  destructive,  murderous,  unnatural  fiend,  knowing  no 
restraint,  and  sparing  neither  friendship,  innocence, 
purity,  nor  the  sacred  ties  of  blood,  —  a  devil  which 
had  since  stalked  through  the  Darhngton  household 
day  and  night,  sat  at  table  with  their  guests,  and  held  a 
place  in  the  family  circle ;  which  threatened,  at  last,  its 
tortured  victim's  life. 

Bert's  next  "  drunk  "  —  so  people  called  it  —  followed 
four  months  later.  In  the  intervening  time  he  had 
not  tasted  a  drop  of  liquor,  or  craved  it.  The  same 
excesses  marked  this  spree  that  had  marked  his  first 


A  Phantom  of  the  Night  99 

one,  and  he  was  expelled  from  college.  Since  that 
time,  at  periods  from  one  to  five  months  apart,  he  had 
continued  to  fall.  Violence  did  not  always  appear  in 
the  first  stages.  Sometimes  there  was  a  preliminary 
mood  of  cunning,  when  he  dissembled,  with  no  motive 
whatever,  and  with  an  art  that  he  never  knew  in  his  sober 
moments.  Again,  though  rarely,  this  preliminary  mood 
was  convivial.  He  would  then  wander  around  singing 
and  making  speeches,  sometimes  straying  far  out  mto 
the  country,  either  alone  or  with  the  first  companion 
that  presented  himself. 

His  recoveries  were  accompanied  by  the  most  excru- 
ciating mental  sufferings.  Sometimes  he  took  to  his 
bed ;  when  the  attack  was  less  severe,  he  had  been 
known  to  walk  the  floor  of  his  room  for  twelve  hours  at 
a  stretch.  He  once  told  an  intimate  he  did  not  believe 
he  would  be  punished  in  the  hereafter  for  his  drinking, 
because  he  did  not  believe  that  God  would  put  a  man 
in  hell  twice  for  the  same  sin.  Some  people  were  im- 
pressed by  this  remark  —  it  leaked  out  in  some  way  — 
and  were  fond  of  repeating  it  whenever  Bert's  lapses 
from  sobriety  were  under  discussion ;  others  regarded 
it  merely  as  a  weakness.  Doubtless  he  was  weak, 
somewhere. 

The  anguish  of  remorse  was  always  followed  by  a 
deep  melancholy,  lasting  several  weeks.  During  these 
periods  he  excluded  himself  from  the  society  of  all  save 
a  few  chosen  friends.  To  these  few  he  had,  on  several 
occasions,  hinted  at  suicide ;  but  as  one  attack  followed 
another  with  no  such  disastrous  consequences,  this  dark 
threat  came  to  be  classed  with  his  other  weaknesses. 
With  these  exceptions,  Bert  was  cheerful  and  happy ; 
and  in  spite  of  his  many  failures  to  overcome  his  ab- 


lOO  The  Darlingtons 

normal  appetite,  he  never  lost  faith  in  himself  for  any 
length  of  time. 

Just  what  effect  his  great  weakness  had  on  his  social 
position,  it  is  hard  to  say.  Youth,  a  winning  personaHty, 
an  accomplished  and  beautiful  sister,  a  respected  family, 
and  wealth  are  social  props  not  easily  knocked  from 
under  one.  Most  people  doubtless  beheved  that  he 
would  never  reform  ;  most  mothers  had  doubtless  warned 
their  daughters  against  him  —  possibly  with  a  sigh  of 
regret.  Certainly  old  man  Clifford  had  warned  his 
grand-daughter,  Elsie,  against  him. 

But  Bert  Darlington  was  a  pleasant  fellow  —  pleasant 
to  talk  with,  and  pleasant  to  waltz  with.  It  was  pleas- 
ant to  ride  behind  his  blooded  horses ;  it  was  pleasant, 
in  company  with  a  crowd  of  young  people,  to  glide  over 
the  rails  of  the  H.  P.,  R.,  A.,  and  S.,  in  the  president's 
private  car,  with  a  supper  or  a  theatre  party  at  the  other 
end  of  the  route ;  it  was  pleasant  to  be  invited  to  the 
■Darlington  home.  And  pleasant  things  are  not  re- 
nounced by  society  without  a  powerful  motive.  All 
said  and  done,  whatever  the  parental  pillow-talk  may 
have  been  about  Bert  in  those  homes  containing  mar- 
riageable daughters,  his  social  position  was  envied  by 
most  of  the  young  men  in  Ashboro. 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  PHANTOM 

"  Did  you  cover  him  up  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Darlington,  in  a 
voice  tremulously  tender. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Carol.  Her  voice  sounded  strangely 
apathetic  in  comparison  with  her  mother's ;  and  it  was 
apathetic,  in  fact,  just  then.  Carol's  was  one  of  those 
natures  which  the  first  fires  of  tribulation  and  the  first 
hammer-strokes  of  destiny  only  harden. 

"  Oh,  child,  it  seems  too  bad  ! "  exclaimed  the  mother, 
with  a  little  whimper.  "  It  seems  as  if  all  the  poor  boy's 
struggles  and  all  my  prayers  —  "  She  broke  off,  and  bit 
her  lip,  while  her  face  worked  spasmodically. 

"  It  is  too  bad  ! "  said  Carol  passionately,  her  deli- 
cate nostrils  inflating  after  the  manner  of  her  father's. 
"  But  what  is  done  can't  be  undone.  You  are  not  to 
blame,  and  I  am  not  to  blame.  We  didn't  drink  the 
vile  poison,  and  we  have  done  all  we  could  to  keep  Bert 
from  drinking  it.  I  sympathize  with  him — just  as 
much  as  you  do ;  but  I  am  not  going  to  let  his  weak- 
ness pull  me  down.  I  am  not  going  to  accept  the 
shame  and  disgrace.  I  am  not  going  to  worry  myself 
into  an  early  grave,  or  mope  around  the  house  like  a 
ghost,  or  —  or  lose  any  sleep.'^ 

"  He  can't  help  it  either,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Darlington, 
very  tenderly.  ''  He  suffers  more  than  we  do.  You 
know  that  he  does  n't  want  to  disgrace  us  all,  or  ruin 


102  The  Darlingtons 

his  health,  or  make  such  a  —  "  Her  words  were  again 
lost  in  the  fulness  of  her  heart. 

'^  I  know  that  he  can't  help  it,"  answered  Carol, 
more  charitably.  "  But  if  he  can't,  who  can  ?  We 
can't.  We  have  done  all  we  could.  And  if  Bert  is  go- 
ing to  —  to  ruin  himself  for  hfe — if  it 's  got  to  come  to 
that — I  am  not  going  to  let  it  ruin  me  too.  And  you 
sha'n't  let  it  ruin  you,  mamma.  He  won't  be  the  first 
man  that  has  done  it,  or  the  last.  It  is  not  a  world- 
catastrophe  that  we  must  bow  before.  People  won't 
let  us  excuse  it  on  any  such  grounds.  They  —  "  She 
closed  her  hps  on  her  mounting  indignation. 

"  God's  ways  are  inscrutable,"  said  Mrs.  Darling- 
ton, after  a  little  silence.  "I  never  could  understand 
why  an  innocent  child  should  be  born  with  such  an 
appetite." 

"I  wouldn't  blame  God,  mamma,"  said  Carol. 

Ruth  shook  her  head  at  her  sister  with  a  deprecatory 
frown,  and  Carol  relapsed  into  a  silence  which  was  not 
broken  for  some  time. 

"  You  had  better  go  to  bed,  girls,"  said  Mrs.  DarHng- 
ton  at  last,  looking  up  with  dull,  sick  eyes. 

'^  All  right,  though  I  don't  know  what  for,"  answered 
Carol,  obediently  rising. 

"You  said  you  weren't  going  to  lose  any  sleep," 
said  Ruth,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"I  say  lots  of  things.  Good-night."  Carol  bent 
and  gave  her  mother  a  kiss. 

"  Good-night,  Carol.  You  must  try  to  sleep,  dear. 
You  won't  be  fit  for  work  to-morrow  if  you  don't." 

"Good-night,  mamma  dear,"  said  Ruth,  and  Carol 
noted  with  a  pang  how  much  softer  her  sister's  face  was 
than  her  own  must  have  been. 


The  Trail  of  the  Phantom        103 

*' Good-night,  Ruth,"  said  her  mother.  "Don't 
leave  your  window  up  too  far  to-night.  It  will  be 
colder  before  morning.  And  you  had  better  put  an 
extra  blanket  on  your  bed." 

"  Mamma  can't  see  these  things  just  as  you  do,  sis," 
said  Ruth,  as  she  and  Carol  ascended  the  broad  stair- 
case, side  by  side.  "There's  no  use  arguing  with  her, 
especially  at  a  time  like  this." 

'•Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Carol,  with  mock  humihty.  But 
after  she  was  ready  for  bed  she  put  on  a  pair  of  slippers 
and  a  loose  gown,  and  went  noiselessly  downstairs 
again.  Her  mother  had  apparently  not  moved,  and 
still  sat  looking  into  the  fire.  Carol  fumbled  around 
the  table,  the  mantel-piece,  and  the  secretary,  as  if 
hunting  for  something,  until  her  mother  looked  up, 
and  asked,  "What  is  it,  Carol?" 

"Nothing  —  only  I  thought  I  had  left  my  little 
scissors  down  here.  Never  mind,  mamma  !"  said  she, 
as  her  mother  made  a  motion  to  rise.  "  They  must 
be  upstairs.  Good-night  once  more."  The  girl's  lithe 
figure  bent  over  the  back  of  her  mother's  chair,  the 
two  bronze  heads  again  came  together,  and  this  time 
they  lingered  longer  and  more  lovingly,  it  seemed,  than 
before.  ''Now  you  go  to  bed,"  said  Carol,  playfully 
patting  one  of  her  mother's  cheeks,  and  holding  her 
own  downy  cheek  against  the  other. 

"  I  think  I  '11  wait  until  your  father  comes,"  answered 
Mrs.  Darlington.  "  He  can't  be  much  longer.  I  could  n't 
sleep  anyhow  till  he  comes.  Probably  we  had  better 
have  breakfast  a  little  later  in  the  morning.  Good-night. 
Just  look  in  and  see  how  Ruth's  windows  are.  She  has 
a  little  cold." 

If  C.  A.  Darlington  could  have  seen  Carol  playing 


^ 


104  The  Darlingtons 


through  this  little  scene,  —  thrilled  with  love  and  touched 
with  remorse  for  her  unfeeling  remarks  about  her  brother, 
and  yet  reined  up  by  a  pride  that  would  not  let  her  bow 
her  head  and  openly  beg  her  mother's  forgiveness,  —  he 
would  have  seen  the  re-incarnation,  in  fairer  form,  of  his 
own  proud  spirit.  Her  hunting  for  those  scissors  that 
were  never  lost,  and  her  stopping,  as  though  incidentally, 
to  kiss  her  mother  a  second  good-night,  were  but  another 
form  of  the  half-atonement  he  himself  had  made  many 
a  time  in  the  past. 

Carol  went  upstairs  a  second  time,  feeling  better, 
though  not  satisfied.  She  knew.  After  glancing  at 
Ruth's  windows,  she  stepped  into  Bert's  room  to  look 
after  the  ventilation  there.  His  deathlike,  breathless, 
dreamless  sleep  had  held  him  motionless.  His  hands 
lay  on  his  chest  just  where  the  grip  of  the  officer  had 
left  them,  and  the  blanket  she  had  thrown  over  him 
lay  as  unruffled  as  a  shroud.  His  face,  naturally  so 
fair,  was  dark  and  sodden.  His  hair,  still  straggling 
over  his  forehead,  gave  him  an  unnatural,  low-browed 
appearance. 

Taking  a  comb  from  the  dressing-table,  Carol  combed 
out  the  still  form's  tangled  hair,  and  parted  it  in  the 
middle,  and  brushed  it  to  glossy  smoothness.  This  simple 
change  made  a  wonderful  improvement.  Locked  as  he 
was  in  the  immovable  embrace  of  the  drug,  he  now  had 
a  childish,  innocent  expression.  Four  or  five  purple 
places  and  as  many  scratches  on  his  face  completed  the 
effect,  just  as  though  he  might  have  received  them  in 
rough,  boyish  play.  Carol  bent  over  and  kissed  one  of 
the  bruises ;  then  kneeling  by  the  bedside,  with  her  face 
on  his  pillow,  she  let  her  long-suppressed  grief  have  its 
way. 


The  Trail  of  the  Phantom       105 

Charles  Darlington  came  home  about  half-past  twelve. 
He  let  himself  in  with  a  night-key,  and  came  down  the 
hall  with  a  light,  brisk  step.  It  was  his  usual  step,  with 
something  added,  and  his  wife  instinctively  knew  that 
everything  had  gone  well  at  the  directors'  meeting. 

*'  Hello  !  You  up  yet? "  he  exclaimed  cheerily,  as  he 
stepped  into  the  room,  his  inevitable  cigar  in  his  mouth. 
"About  bed-time,  isn't  it?" 

"  I  thought  I  'd  wait  for  you,"  answered  his  wife. 

*' Where 's  the  Tribune?  ^^  he  asked,  shuffling  the 
papers  about  on  the  stand,  and  frowning  good-naturedly 
at  their  dates.  ''  I  suppose  Carol  *s  lugged  it  off  upstairs. 
No  —  take  it  all  back.  I  want  to  just  glance  it  over  for 
a  minute." 

As  he  unfolded  and  folded  the  paper  to  get  at  the  first 
page,  the  crow's-feet  around  his  eyes  deepened  into  a 
smile.  "You  knew  Clint  Windom's  nephew  was  here 
from  Cincinnati,  did  n't  you  —  Black 's  his  name  ?  He  's 
in  the  creamery  business  ;  owns  a  dozen  or  more  cream* 
eries  around  the  country,  and  was  thinking,  so  Clint  said, 
of  starting  one  here.  He  even  went  so  far  as  to  look  up 
a  location,  and  his  eye  fell  on  that  little  piece  of  land 
next  to  Smithson's  warehouse,  that  old  lady  Eldridge 
owns.     I  don't  know  as  you  know  just  where  it  is." 

"The  one  there's  some  trouble  about,  in  connection 
with  the  new  switch?"  said  Mrs.  Darlington,  dreading  to 
make  her  revelation. 

"  There  was  some  trouble,"  said  Darlington,  genially. 
"  Black  went  up  to  see  her,  and  told  her  what  he  wanted 
the  land  for.  The  old  lady  is  n't  in  her  dotage  yet,  and 
seemed  to  think  that  he  did  n't  want  it  for  creamery  pur- 
poses. I  don't  know  whether  she  knew  he  was  CHnt's 
nephew  or  not.     Anyway,  she   held   out   for  eighteen 


io6  The  Darlingtons 

hundred,  the  same  price  she  asked  us  for  it.  It  *s  worth 
about  eight  hundred.  Well,  they  haggled  along  for  sev- 
eral days,  and  finally  this  young  fellow,  Black,  went  to 
her,  and  told  her  that  the  deal  was  off;  that  he  could  n't 
take  the  ground  at  any  price,  as  he  understood  the  rail- 
road had  decided  to  run  its  new  switch  around  the  other 
way,  in  by  Ford's.  We  did  talk  about  it,  you  know. 
Well,  that  piece  of  land  has  been  a  white  elephant  on  the 
old  lady's  hands  for  some  years,  and  that  scared  her.  She 
dropped  to  a  thousand  in  one  break,  and  closed  the  deal 
at  nine  hundred.  To-night  Clint  walked  in  and  threw 
the  deed  on  the  table,  and  told  us  we  could  have  the 
land  for  nine-fifty,  —  the  fifty  to  pay  Black  for  his  trouble. 
So  the  switch  will  go  in  by  Smithson's,  after  all." 

Darlington  waited  for  his  wife  to  say  something  ;  she 
usually  did  say  something  about  these  "  deals  "  that  could 
not  be  measured  with  a  perfectly  straight  yardstick.  But 
to  his  surprise,  and  possibly  gratification,  she  said  nothing 
this  time.  While  he  was  debating  with  himself  whether 
he  had  better  make  the  transaction  a  little  clearer  to  her 
or  not,  she  said,     "  Charles,  Bert  is  sick  again." 

Darlington  stiffened  a  little,  like  a  man  who  had  been 
suddenly  impaled  on  a  lance,  and  looked  sharply  at  his 
wife.  Then  he  lifted  his  paper  with  a  quick  gesture, 
looked  at  it  with  a  dark  brow,  and  as  quickly  lowered  it 
again. 

"  You  mean  he 's  drunk,"  said  he,  stung  into  harsh- 
ness. She  made  no  answer,  and  his  bright  eyes  flitted 
restlessly  about  for  a  moment.  It  was  evident  that  he 
too  was  suffering,  in  his  way. 

"  Who  took  care  of  him  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Carol  did.    And  the  officer." 

"Ryan?" 


The  Trail  of  the  Phantom       107 

**Yes." 

"  How  bad  was  he  ?  "  he  asked,  after  another  pause. 

For  answer  Mrs.  Darlington  suddenly  placed  her  elbow 
on  the  table,  opposite  him,  and  clasped  her  hand  tightly 
over  her  eyes,  the  muscles  of  her  face  working  nervously. 
Even  in  that  crucial  moment  Darlington  noticed  that  it 
was  still  a  beautiful  hand.  He  looked  at  her  gravely, 
and  after  a  while,  as  she  continued  to  struggle  silently 
with  her  emotion,  his  face  softened. 

"  It  don't  do  any  good  to  cry,  Winnie,"  said  he,  with 
a  kind  of  brisk  tenderness.  "  It  don't  do  any  good  to 
do  anything  that  I  know  of,"  he  added,  bitterly.  "  He 
has  everything  under  the  sun  to  live  for  that  any  boy 
ever  had,  and  if  that  won't  keep  him  straight  —  "  He 
broke  off  hopelessly. 

"  He  held  out  so  long  this  time,"  she  murmured 
huskily. 

*•  Yes, "  assented  DarHngton.  "  Which  is  a  very  good 
reason  why  he  should  have  held  out  still  longer  —  for  all 
time.  If  he  overcame  his  appetite  once,  he  can  do  it 
again,  if  he  will.  But  I  know  how  it  is  with  Bert.  After 
a  fight  or  two,  he  lets  down.  After  the  thing  gets  a  little 
dull  in  his  memory,  and  his  remorse  is  gone,  and  people 
have  about  forgotten  it,  he  begins  to  think  it  was  n't  so 
bad,  after  all.  I  know  it,"  he  repeated,  emphatically,  as 
his  wife  incredulously  shook  her  head.  "  I  have  watched 
the  thing  time  and  again.  I  —  When  that  boy  was 
born,"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  transport  of  grief,  "  I  httle 
thought  that  you  were  adding  a  drunkard  to  the 
world!" 

''Oh,  Charles,  he  isn't  a  drunkard!"  cried  Mrs. 
Darlington,  in  her  anguish. 

'*  That 's  just  what  //^thinks,  Winnie,"  said  DarHngton, 


io8  The  Darlingtons 

sternly.  "  He  deludes  himself  with  the  belief  that  he  is 
suffering  from  a  disease.  He  fancies  he  is  the  victim  of 
a  monstrous  appetite  that  no  human  power  can  cope 
with.  He  tells  himself  that  his  case  is  different  from  any 
other  ever  known.  He  believes  that  other  people  think 
that  way  too,  and  will  excuse  him  on  that  ground.  There  's 
just  where  the  trouble  comes  in,  and  as  long  as  he  pal- 
hates  his  offence  by  such  reasoning,  he  will  continue  to 
fall,  as  sure  as  there  is  a  God  in  heaven. 

"  I  don't  doubt  that  he  has  an  abnormal  appetite,  as 
the  term  goes,"  he  continued,  more  temperately,  after 
this  burst.  "  I  know  where  he  got  it.  He  got  it  through 
me,  from  his  grandfather,  though  I  was  never  tipsy  in  my 
life,  and  never  cared  a  fig  for  all  the  liquor  ever  made. 
I  am  willing  to  make  every  allowance  for  that.  It  was 
born  in  him,  and  he  could  n't  help  it.  But  the  same 
thing  has  been  born  in  thousands  of  other  men,  and  they 
have  overcome  it.  What  others  have  done,  he  ought  to 
be  able  to  do.  If  he  can't,  there  is  something  wrong 
with  him.  And  I  tell  you,  Winnie,"  he  continued, 
grimly,  "  this  getting  crazy  drunk  every  few  months  will 
put  him  down,  in  the  end,  just  as  effectually  as  though 
he  lay  in  the  gutters  every  night.  The  only  difference 
is,  the  agony  will  be  drawn  out.  How  long  do  you  sup- 
pose he  could  hold  a  job  anywhere  else  ?  How  long  do 
you  suppose  /  would  tolerate  such  conduct  in  any  other 
employe  of  the  road?     Not  one  minute  !  " 

"I  know  it,  I  know  it,"  she  answered  piteously. 
"  But  what  can  we  do  ?  What  can  he  do  ?  He  tries, 
Charles,  he  tries  so  hard.  He  suffers  more  than  we  do. 
You  know  that.  He  suffers  on  his  own  account  and  on 
ours.  It  seems  to  strike  him  down  without  one  moment's 
warning.     He  was  never  in  better  spirits  than  to-night, 


The  Trail  of  the  Phantom       109 

and  no  power  can  make  me  believe  that  he  had  a  thought 
of  taking  a  drink  then." 

"  I  don  't  know  what  we  can  do,"  answered  her  hus- 
band, gloomily.  "  God  knows  I  have  done  everything  a 
father  could  do.  I  have  talked  with  him,  pleaded  with 
him,  reasoned  with  him.  If  he  goes  to  the  dogs,  I  can  't 
help  it." 

"  I  have  sometimes  thought  if  we  could  get  him  into 
the  church,"  Mrs.  Darlington  began,  and  then  paused. 
Darlington's  face  was  as  impassive  as  an  Indian's. 

"  The  church  is  a  good  thing,  for  some  people,"  said 
he,  briefly.     "  But  it  does  n't  furnish  backbone." 

"  If  we  could  get  him  in,"  she  continued,  with  a  faint 
note  of  hope,  "  he  would  be  committed  to  a  different 
hfe.  He  would  be  pledged  before  others  to  overcome 
his  weakness ;  and  outside  of  the  real  good  it  would  do 
him,  —  the  change  of  heart  he  would  get,  —  it  would  be 
a  moral  support." 

"More  so  than  his  family?"  her  husband  asked, 
sceptically. 

"  He  would  have  both  then,"  she  answered.  "  And 
I  believe,  Charles,"  she  added,  looking  at  him  most 
earnestly,  yet  with  a  certain  timidity,  "that  Christ's 
promises  are  not  in  vain.  I  believe  that  He  will  help 
those  who  give  themselves  fully  and  unreservedly  to  him, 
and  will  lend  them  a  strength  that  they  have  not  in 
themselves." 

"  Well,  I  'm  willing  to  try  it,"  said  Darlington,  not 
unkindly.  "  I  am  willing  to  try  anything  that  holds  out 
hope,  no  matter  how  remote." 

He  had  absolutely  no  faith  in  the  saving  power  of  the 
church  for  himself,  but  he  had  suspected  more  than  once 
that  it  might  be  able  to  do  something  for  Bert.     He 


,/ 


1 10  The  Darlingtons 

knew  that  the  church  did  a  good  deal  for  some  people. 
He  had  his  own  way  of  explaining  that  good,  to  be  sure  — ' 
a  way  that  the  doctors  of  the  church  would  have  been  very 
loath  to  accept ;  and  he  knew  that  it  would  never  work 
in  that  way  in  his  case.  But  this  was  neither  here  nor 
there  with  regard  to  Bert,  as  he  willingly  acknowledged. 

'•'Will  you  help  me,  Charlie?  "  Mrs.  Darlington  asked. 
It  was  the  first  time  she  had  called  him  CharHe  for  years. 
That  and  the  girlish  timidity  with  which  she  made  the 
request  carried  him  back  to  the  days  of  her  young 
wifehood. 

"  Now  look  here,  Winifred,"  he  began,  tenderly, 
*'you  know  I  can't  do  that.  You  know  it  would  be 
mere  hypocrisy  for  me  to  teach  religion  to  Bert,  when  I 
am  not  in  the  church  myself.     He  would  —  " 

"  You  could  be  in  yourself,"  she  interrupted,  sweetly. 

"  No,  I  could  n't,"  he  answered,  kindly  but  firmly. 
"  Not  believing  as  I  do.  You  know  all  about  that.  But 
you  go  ahead.  You  are  in,  and  you  can  do  it  conscien- 
tiously. And  it  may  do  him  good  —  I  don't  know. 
All  men  are  not  built  ahke.  What  is  of  no  use  to  me 
may  be  of  great  use  to  him,  and  it  won't  do  any  harm 
to  try  it,  anyway." 

"  I  have  tried  it,"  said  she,  plaintively. 

"  Well,  try  again.  Don't  let  a  few  failures  discourage 
you.     And  Carol  will  help  you.     She  is  in." 

"  Yes,  she  's  in,"  assented  Mrs.  Darlington,  slowly. 

"  And  she  's  as  good  as  any  that  are  in/'  her  husband 
added,  as  if  denying  her  doubtful  tone. 

"  Yes,  she  's  good,"  she  repeated,  tenderly. 

"You  get  her  to  help  you,"  he  said  again,  encourag- 
ingly.    **  She  can  get  Bert  into  the  church  if  anybody 


can." 


The  Trail  of  the  Phantom       1 1 1 

"  It  is  n't  only  a  question  of  getting  him  i;^,"  ven- 
tured Mrs.  Darlington,  "but  of  a  change  of  heart — a 
conversion." 

"  Well,  Carol  can  help  you  in  that,  too,  can't  she  ?  '* 

"Yes,  I  think  she  can,"  Mrs.  Darhngton  returned, 
very  slowly.  After  a  moment  she  added,  "  Carol  is  not 
as  spiritual  as  Ruth  is,  I  'm  afraid ;  and  she  is  n't  the 
church-worker  that  Ruth  will  be." 

Darlington  said  nothing.  At  another  time  he  might 
have  argued  the  matter  of  Carol's  spirituality.  After  a 
silence  of  some  length,  he  said,  "Well,  let 's  go  to  bed." 

^'  You  go,"  said  she,  drawing  her  chair  a  little  nearer 
the  fire.     "  I  will  be  up  after  a  little." 

He  made  a  motion  to  remonstrate,  but  evidently 
thought  better  of  it,  and  bending  over  the  back  of  her 
chair,  he  kissed  her  good-night,  —  a  little  mark  of  affec- 
tion that  he  too  often  dispensed  with. 

She  sat  there  alone  in  the  fire-light  for  two  hours, 
with  no  company  but  the  busy  little  clock.  About 
three,  she  noiselessly  replenished  the  fire.  Shortly 
afterward  she  dropped  off  into  a  doze,  but  immediately 
awoke  with  a  start.  Evidently  she  had  been  dreaming. 
This  process  she  repeated  until  she  would  not  allow 
her  lids  to  close  again.  Aside  from  the  clock  and  the 
soft  charring  of  the  cannel  coal,  the  only  sounds  were 
those  mysterious  noises  that  float  about  big  houses  in 
the  dead  of  night.  Then  came  a  more  familiar  noise, 
like  shuffling  footsteps.  Looking  up,  she  saw  her  hus- 
band, in  dressing-gown  and  slippers,  standing  in  the 
doorway. 

"  Winnie,  you  must  come  to  bed,"  said  he.  "  It 's 
after  three,  and  you  will  simply  be  sick  to-morrow.  And 
I  can't  get  to  sleep  without  you." 


112  The  Darlingtons 


"  All  right,"  said  she,  obediently.  "  Go  on  up,  and 
I  '11  be  right  along." 

She  followed  him  almost  immediately,  but  before  she 
went  into  her  own  room  she  stepped  into  Bert's.  He 
had  not  moved  since  Carol  left  him,  evidently.  She 
tucked  the  blanket  around  him  tighter,  kissed  him  on 
the  forehead,  lowered  the  sash  a  little,  and  softly  closed 
his  door. 

^'  Is  that  you,  mamma  ?  "  came  Carol's  voice,  through 
her  open  door. 

"  Yes.     Are  n't  you  asleep  ?  " 

"  Have  n't  you  been  to  bed  ?  "  came  the  voice  again, 
reprovingly. 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  am  just  going,"  the  mother  answered. 
The  next  moment  she  was  at  Carol's  bedside.  "  Are 
your  covers  all  right?  "  she  asked,  feeling  around  Carol's 
shoulders  in  the  dark. 

''  It 's  your  covers  that  are  worrying  me,"  answered 
Carol. 

"  Good-night." 

About  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  just  at  break  of 
day,  and  before  the  earliest  servant  in  the  Darlington 
household  was  astir,  Mrs.  Darlington  slipped  from  her 
sleepless  bed,  and  again  looked  into  Herbert's  room. 
He  was  pacing  the  floor  in  his  stocking-feet  and  tattered 
shirt-sleeves,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  In  the  dim, 
chilly  light  he  presented  a  wild  and  haggard  picture.  He 
looked  stooped  and  hollow-chested,  and  his  eyes  were 
the  washed-out  gray  of  an  octogenarian's.  At  sight  of 
his  mother  he  paused,  and  then  folded  her  to  his  bosom. 

*'  Oh,  mother  —  mother  —  mother  !  "  he  moaned. 

"  My  poor,  poor,  poor  little  boy  !  "  she  murmured. 

They  stood  motionless  and  silent  for  a  moment,  and 


The  Trail  of  the  Phantom       1 1  3 

then  she  slipped  from  his  arms,  and  turned  down  his 
bed,  and  got  out  his  gown. 

"  Now  you  must  go  to  bed  and  to  sleep,"  said  she, 
cheerily. 

"I  wish  I  could  sleep,  mother,  —  forever ! "  he  an- 
swered, desperately. 

After  she  had  gone  he  locked  his  door ;  but  it  was  ten 
o'clock,  with  the  bright  sun  trying  to  peep  in  at  his  cur- 
tained windows,  before  he  threw  himself  upon  the  bed, 
exhausted,  and  fell  into  a  fitful  slumber. 


CHAPTER  XII       ' 

"  BECAUSE   I  LOVE   HIM  !  " 

Bert  did  not  leave  his  room  until  summoned  to  dinner 
at  six  o'clock.  He  then  went  down  dressed  with  scru- 
pulous care  in  a  black  suit,  which,  in  connection  with  his 
pale  face  and  subdued  manner,  gave  him  something  of 
a  clerical  air.  No  reference  whatever  was  made  at  the 
table  to  the  events  of  the  night  before.  A  light  and 
somewhat  perfunctory  conversation  was  carried  on  by 
the  women.  Mr.  Darlington  was  silent  for  the  most 
part,  but  occasionally  exchanged  some  "  shop  "  remarks 
with  Carol.  A  question  was  occasionally  referred  to 
Bert  by  the  girls  or  his  mother,  which  he  answered 
briefly  and  without  hfting  his  eyes.  His  expression 
was  rather  haughty,  but  it  was  plain  enough  that  he  was 
suffering. 

Finally  Mr.  Darlington  said  in  his  off-hand  way,  "  Old 
Miller  was  in  to-day,  Bert,  to  see  about  two  car-loads  of 
lime  that  are  hung  up  somewhere  along  the  line.  I  told 
him  he  would  have  to  come  in  to-morrow  and  see  you. 
Know  anything  about  it?"  His  manner  and  tone  con- 
veyed perhaps  the  slightest  reflection  on  Bert's  absence 
from  the  office.  But  Bert's  nerves  were  in  a  very  bad 
condition,  and  he  answered  sharply,  — 

"  I  told  him  yesterday  that  there  had  been  a  mistake 
in  the  biUing,  and  that  the  cars  had  been  dropped  out 


"  Because  I  Love  Him  !  "        115 

at  Rankelman.  They  probably  came  in  on  ^6  this 
afternoon." 

''  All  right,"  said  his  father,  suavely. 

"  It  seems  to  me  it  would  be  an  economical  move  to 
make  a  change  in  the  High  Point  agency,"  observed 
Carol.  "  That  man  Avery's  careless  re-billing  costs  the 
road  more  than  his  salary." 

"  I  don't  think  it  was  Avery's  fault,"  Bert  answered, 
shortly.  "  The  cars  were  consigned  by  the  Western 
Lime  and  Salt  Company,  and  I  have  n't  a  doubt  that 
the  error  lies  with  them.  They  have  made  the  same 
mistake  before,  consigning  stuff  to  Miller's  branch  yard 
in  Rankelman  instead  of  sending  it  here." 

"  I  should  sooner  think  it  was  Avery's  fault,"  returned 
Carol. 

"  Avery  is  as  good  an  agent  as  we  have,"  answered 
Bert.  "  The  trouble  with  him  is,  he 's  over-worked. 
He  's  short  of  help." 

*'  He  'd  have  help  enough,  if  he  hired  the  right  kind," 
said  Mr.  Darlington,  with  an  air  of  finality. 

Bert,  however,  did  not  so  accept  it.  "  What 's  his 
pay-roll  a  month,  Carol  ?  "  he  asked. 

^'  About  four  hundred  and  ninety  dollars,"  she  an- 
swered, after  a  moment's  thought. 

"  And  what  was  it  three  years  ago  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     That  was  before  my  time." 

"  It  was  about  the  same,  for  there  has  been  no  change 
in  the  number  of  men  in  that  office  since  I  can  remem- 
ber. Yet  the  re-billing  there  has  increased  in  the  last 
three  years  fully  fifty  per  cent." 

"  He  ought  to  ask  for  more  help,  then,'*  said  the 
president,  lightly. 

''We  ought  to  give  it  to  him  if  he  needs  it,"  said 


ii6  The  Darllngtons 

Carol.  "  It 's  our  loss,  not  his.  But  if  an  agent  needs 
help  and  is  too  timid  to  ask  for  it,  it  does  n't  seem  to 
me  that  he  's  the  man  for  the  place." 

"  If  he  needs  help,  we  will  give  it  to  him,"  returned 
her  father.  "  There  is  no  use  in  talking  about  a  new 
man  there.  Avery  is  the  most  popular  man  in  High 
Point,  and  can  smooth  more  ruffled  fur  in  an  hour  than 
any  two  men  I  know  of.  Further,  he  's  been  with  the 
road  too  long  to  be  dropped." 

With  this  the  discussion  ended.  Bert  got  up  from 
the  table  a  little  before  the  others,  and  returned  to  his 
room.  He  emerged  again  about  eight  o'clock,  and  left 
the  house.  As  he  walked  slowly  up  street,  into  the 
residence  part  of  the  town,  he  met  several  people  whom 
he  knew ;  but  as  they  were  not  readily  recognizable  in 
the  dark,  he  used  that  as  an  excuse  for  not  speaking. 
In  the  middle  of  the  third  block  above  his  home,  he 
turned  in  where  a  plain,  two-story  house  stood  back 
some  distance  from  the  street,  from  which  it  was 
screened  by  a  tangle  of  shrubbery.  A  hght  shone  from 
the  front  windows,  which  might  have  indicated  that  he 
was  expected.  The  quickness  with  svhich  his  ring  was 
answered  was  also  significant. 

Elsie  Clifford  came  to  the  door.  At  her  low,  happy, 
"  Hello,  Bert !  "  accompanied  by  both  her  outstretched 
hands,  the  gloom  lifted  from  his  face.  She  had  not 
heard !  But  the  respite  was  only  momentary,  and  as  he 
followed  her  into  the  parlor,  darkness  again  settled  over 
him. 

An  aged  couple  sat  in  the  adjoining  room,  half-hidden 
by  a  pair  of  old-fashioned  portieres.  The  old  lady  was 
busily  knitting  close  to  a  hght  on  the  centre-table ;  the 
old  man  sat  drowsing,  with  his  feet  on  the  fender  of  the 


■A 


"  Because  I  Love  Him  !  "        117 


^Pi 


base-burner,  his  hands  clasped  before  him.     Neither  of  ^ 

them  looked  up  at  the  young  man's  entrance ;  which       ^"\^^    '  *'^'. 

might  have  had  no  significance  —  for  the  young  people  "'^^-.. 

were   hardly   in   the  old   people's  presence  —  had  not 

Elsie  slipped  up    to  Bert,  and  resting  one  hand  upon        /r^'-^'  / 

his  shoulder  in  an  endearing  way,  whispered  something 

in  his  ear.  ,,^^ 

He  at  once  stepped  to  the  portieres  and  respectfully      .  \. 
saluted  the  venerable  couple.     Mrs.  Clifford  answered  /^I^        >>. 
with  a  bright  little  nod  and  smile,  as  though  she  were      '^  "^^ 

more  than  willing  to  meet  any  advances ;  but  the  old         '  ( 
man  only  returned  a  stiff  "  Good-evening,  sir  !  "  scarcely 
turning  his  head.     Darlington  flushed,  and  Elsie  bit  her 
lip  and  looked  pained. 

For  an  hour  the  young  people  carried  on  a  fragment 
ary  and  unsatisfactory  conversation.  Not  a  sound  came 
from  the  sitting-room,  and  everything  said  in  the  parlor 
must  have  been  distinctly  audible  to  the  grandparents. 
Bert  obviously  chafed  under  the  restraint,  and  to  relieve 
this  in  a  measure  Elsie  brought  out  some  samples  of 
dress  goods  she  had  received  from  the  city.  She  asked 
him  to  pick  out  what  he  thought  the  prettiest  pattern. 
He  did  so  with  the  quickness  of  a  woman.  Her  choice 
had  fallen  on  another  pattern,  but  after  some  discussion 
and  hesitation  and  comparison,  she  decided  to  order 
from  the  piece  he  had  chosen. 

About  nine  o'clock  the  old  people  turned  down  the 
lamp  and  went  off  to  bed.  Elsie  was  softly  playing  on 
the  piano  at  the  moment.  She  gave  Bert  a  gratified 
smile  over  her  shoulder,  but  kept  on  playing  until  she 
heard  the  bedroom  door  upstairs  close  with  a  bang 
that  indicated  finality.  Bert  by  this  time  was  standing 
by  Elsie's  side.     She  jumped  up  and  took  his  hands  in 


1 1 8  The  Darlingtons 

hers.  Holding  them  straight  down  by  his  side,  she 
tip-toed  a  little,  and  hghtly  kissed  him. 

"  How  are  you,  dear?"  she  asked,  as  if  he  had  just 
come. 

As  she  stood,  her  eyes  were  about  even  with  his  chin. 
Very  remarkable  eyes  they  were,  too.  Splintered  points 
of  light  shot  hither  and  thither  in  their  midnight  depths. 
Their  size  and  roundness,  and  their  peculiar  fixity  of 
gaze,  gave  them  a  wide-open,  alert  appearance,  not 
exactly  pleasant  at  first  to  most  people,  —  it  was  too 
hysterical,  they  said,  —  but  very  likely  to  grow  upon 
one,  as  Bert  Darlington  had  found.  Indeed,  to  most 
people  who  knew  her  well,  Elsie  Clifford's  unusual  eyes 
were  her  finest  charm.  Her  mouth  was  of  a  part  with 
her  eyes,  drooping  sensitively  at  the  corners,  and  con- 
stantly playing  under  her  emotions. 

"  I  am  not  very  well,"  answered  Bert. 

"  Is  that  why  you  did  n't  stop  after  choir  practice  for 
me  last  night  ? ''  she  asked,  with  playful  incredulity. 

"  Yes,  that 's  the  reason,"  said  he,  soberly. 

"  Why,  you  are  not  sick,  Bert,  —  are  you  ?  "  she  asked, 
seriously. 

"  I  am.  Sick  at  heart,"  he  answered,  a  ghostly  smile 
flickering  over  his  face.  He  pressed  her  head  to  his 
shoulder,  so  that  the  searching,  alarmed  eyes  could  not 
look  into  his  face,  and  said,  wearily,  "  I  fell  again  last 
night.'* 

She  stiffened  in  his  arms  at  first,  and  then,  for  what 
seemed  a  long  time,  did  not  move  or  speak.  At  last 
she  slowly  removed  his  arms,  and  sat  down  a  little  way 
off,  with  her  back  toward  him.  She  dropped  her  head 
upon  her  hand,  and  she  might  have  been  either  silently 
crying  or  only  thinking. 


"Because  I  Love  Him  1  119 

Darlington  also  sank  into  a  chair,  languidly  and 
wearily.  He  attempted  no  defence,  for  all  defence  had 
long  since  been  exhausted.  He  did  not  even  attempt 
to  soothe  her.  All  he  could  do  was  to  suffer,  and  let 
her  suffer.  He  rocked  gently,  with  his  eyes  upon  her 
stricken  figure,  as  an  assassin  might  look  at  the  victim 
of  his  knife.  Never  had  he  loved  her  more  ;  never  had 
he  felt  a  profounder  pity  for  her ;  never  had  he  felt  a 
profounder  disgust  for  himself. 

After  a  while,  though,  this  extreme  self-loathing 
passed.  She  sat  so  long  and  so  still  that  the  thought 
came  over  him  once,  in  his  morbid  condition,  that  she 
might  be  dead.  But  this  fear  soon  passed,  and  after  a 
moment  he  said,  in  a  low  tone,  "  Elsie  !  " 

She  made  no  answer,  and  he  waited  five  minutes. 

"  Elsie  1 "  he  repeated.  Still  no  answer,  and  again  he 
waited. 

"  Can  't  you  say  something  —  even  if  it  is  only  to  tell 
me  to  go?" 

"  Let  me  think,"  said  she,  without  moving. 

He  waited  ten  minutes  more,  perhaps,  —  it  seemed 
an  hour,  —  and  then  said,  rising  :  "  Elsie,  please  speak. 
I  can  stand  anything  better  than  this  terrible  silence.  I 
can't  stand  that ;  and  if  you  must  think,  I  '11  go  home 
and  let  you  think  alone." 

"  Go,"  said  she. 

But  he  did  not,  and  no  power  could  have  made 
him  do  so.  He  waited  again,  and  when  a  second 
time  he  could  stand  it  no  longer — when  it  seemed  as 
if  he  must  cry  out  from  sheer  nervousness  —  he  went 
over  to  her,  laid  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  and 
said,  appealingly,  — 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Elsie,  say  something  !  " 


I20  The  Darlingtons 

"  Don't  touch  me  !  "  she  commanded.  *'  Sit  down 
and  let  me  think.     I  want  to  think." 

The  deepest  abasement  has  its  bottom,  and  Bert  had 
reached  the  bottom  of  his.  The  manner  in  which  she 
flung  off  his  hand  cut  him  to  the  quick,  and  stalking 
haughtily  back  to  his  chair,  he  said  angrily  :  "  Think  it 
over  from  now  till  to-morrow  morning.  I  won't  disturb 
you  again." 

It  seemed  as  though  she  was  going  to  take  his  ad- 
vice, for  she  made  no  further  movement.  He  ht  a  cigar, 
and  smoked  fast  and  furiously,  keeping  a  hot  coal  glow- 
ing that  spoiled  the  fragrance  of  the  weed,  though  he 
was  in  no  condition  to  be  fastidious.  When  the  cigar 
was  finished  —  in  about  ten  minutes  —  he  lit  another  one. 
This  was  about  half  consumed  when  Elsie  arose.  Her 
eyes  were  hot  and  dry,  her  face  was  white  and  drawoi. 

"  Grandfather  said  once  that  you  would  probably  kill 
your  wife  in  a  fit  of  drunken  insanity,"  she  began,  in  an 
unnaturally  hard  tone,  and  paused. 

"  He  may  be  right,"  answered  Bert,  gloomily. 

"  He  said  that  you  once  tried  to  kill  the  bar-tender  in 
the  Hollenbeck  House,  and  that  you  would  have  done 
so  if  help  had  not  arrived." 

"  They  say  I  did,"  he  assented,  dully. 

^'  Because  he  had  refused  you  a  drink,"  she  continued. 

''  Yes." 

'*  When  he  was  trying  to  save  you  from  further  degra- 
dation." 

"  Yes." 

"  When  you  are  that  way  you  don't  know  anybody, 
grandfather  says." 

Bert  made  no  answer. 

**  Is  it  true  ?  "  she  asked. 


"Because  I  Love  Him!"        121 

*'Yes." 

'^  Suppose  I  were  your  wife,  and  you  were  to  come 
home  that  way,  and  I  should  refuse  you  a  drink.  What 
would  you  do  ?  '^ 

''  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  he  groaned.  ''  But  I  would  not 
hurt  you.  I  could  not  hurt  yoic.  Not  a  woman,  and 
one  I  loved." 

"  Did  n't  you  ever  hurt  a  woman,  or  attempt  to  ?  " 
she  asked,  her  severity  relenting  a  little. 

''Yes,"  he  answered,  desperately. 

"  She  was  n't  a  woman,  either,  was  she  ?  Only  a  girl, 
was  n't  she  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

*'  If  you  would  try  to  hurt  one  woman,  would  n't  you 
try  to  hurt  another?  If  you  are  so  far  lost,  at  these 
times,  as  to  forget  manliness,  and  even  common  human- 
ity, would  n't  you  forget  everything  else  —  even  love  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  murmured,  hopelessly. 

Another  period  of  silence  followed,  during  which  Elsie 
studied  his  half-averted  face  with  eyes  so  earnest,  so 
penetrating,  that  their  gaze  might  have  reached  his  soul. 

"  If  you  were  a  woman,  would  you  marry  such  a  man 
as  you  have  confessed  yourself  to  be  ?  "  she  asked. 

*'  That  is  hard  !  "  he  protested. 

^'  Hard  !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  a  note  of  indignation. 
"  It 's  a  question  that  /must  answer." 

"  I  would  not,"  said  he,  quickly,  in  answer. 

*'  And  you  would  not  ask  me  to  do  anything  you 
would  not  do  yourself  ?  " 

*'  No,  no !  "  he  exclaimed  in  his  misery. 

"  Then  you  are  wilHng  to  release  me  from  any  en- 
gagements I  have  made  ?  "  Her  eyes  filled  with  a  saint- 
ly compassion. 


122  The  Darlingtons 

*'Not  willing,  but  in  justice  I  must." 

She  was  silent  again,  composed,  sad,  and  subdued. 

"Do  you  think  I  ought  to  trust  you  again?"  she 
asked,  gently. 

^'  No,"  said  he,  uncompromisingly. 

"  Do  you  think,  if  I  did,  that  I  should  meet  with  the 
same  disappointments  that  I  have  in  the  past?" 

"  Elsie,  I  don't  know,"  said  he,  brokenly.  "  I  have 
exhausted  promises.  I  have  sworn  by  everything  I  hold 
sacred  to  be  strong,  and  yet  I  have  been  weak.  I  can't 
make  any  more  promises.  I  wo7i'f  make  any  more.  It 
would  simply  be  mockery." 

"  Do  you  mean  you  are  not  going  to  try  any  more?" 
she  asked,  in  a  low,  frightened  tone. 

"  No,  I  am  going  to  try.  But  I  am  not  going  to 
make  any  more  promises,  for  they  bind  you  as  well  as 
me.  You  are  free,  Elsie,  free  as  — "  A  lump  in  his 
throat  choked  off  the  rest.  She  looked  at  him  with  a 
great  love  in  her  eyes,  but  still  maintained  her  impas- 
siveness. 

'*  If  I  should  try  you  again,  do  you  think  I  could  re- 
tain my  self-respect?  "  she  asked,  very  kindly.  "  Is  n't 
there  a  point  where  love  becomes  mere  infatuation,  and 
as  such  is  shameless  ?  Dare  a  woman  marry  a  man  out 
of  pity,  either  for  him  or  herself?" 

"  No,"  said  he,  emphatically.  "  If  you  did  that,  you 
would  be  doing  me  as  much  injustice  as  yourself.  But 
as  to  losing  your  self-respect  —  I  am  not  so  sure  about 
that.  If  a  man  were  all  right  except  for  one  weakness, 
I  don't  see  where  your  self-respect  would  suffer  by  wait- 
ing for  him  to  overcome  that  weakness.  The  Bible  says 
it  is  divine  to  forgive,  and  your  waiting  for  a  man  would 
in  a  sense  be  forgiveness.      I  don't  see  how  it  could 


'* Because  I  Love  Him!'*         123 

hurt  your  self-respect.     But  self-respect  is  n't  the  only 
thing  to  be  considered,"  he  added,  gloomily. 

Without  warning,  Elsie  pressed  her  handkerchief  to 
her  face  and  began  to  cry,  softly,  almost  noiselessly. 
Bert  watched  her  with  his  own  eyes  moist. 

"  I  thought  of  this  plan,"  he  began,  hesitatingly, 
after  a  pause.  "  We  will  let  things  stand  as  they  are 
now,  —  you  released  from  all  your  obligations,  and  I 
released  from  mine.  I  make  no  promises ;  you  make 
nothing  contingent  on  any  performance  of  mine.  We 
are  both  free.  But  if  at  the  end  of  a  year  I  have 
lived  a  sober  life,  and  if  you  are  then  still  —  still  of  the^ 
same  mind  —  " 

"  If  I  love  you,  say,"  she  broke  in,  sobbingly. 

"  —  if  you  still  love  me,  perhaps  you  would  feel 
assured  then  of  my  ability  to  overcome  this  terrible 
habit.  Mind,  I  don't  ask  you  to  wait.  You  can  leave 
town,  if  you  want  to,  and  go  back  to  the  hospital  and 
nurse  ;  but  if  you  should  wait —  " 

He  could  add  nothing.  Her  answer  was  a  long  time 
coming,  but  it  fully  satisfied  him  when  it  did  come.  "  I 
will  wait,"  she  said.  "  If  you  can  hold  out  one  year, 
you  can  hold  out  forever.  And  if  you  ca7i,  I  know  you 
will.  Be  strong,  Herbert,"  she  admonished,  with  a 
trembling  voice,  "  for  your  sisters'  sake,  for  your  parents' 
sake,  for  my  sake.  Don't  let  such  a  miserable  thing  as 
whiskey  dash  all  your  hopes  to  the  ground.  You  have 
so  much  to  live  for.  I  will  pray  for  you,  dear,  and  I 
have  faith  that  it  will  help  you ;  and  you  must  pray  for 
yourself.  Pray  with  faith,  and  it  will  help  you  as  it  has 
helped  so  many  others." 

At  the  door  he  paused  with  her  fingers  in  one 
hand. 


1 24  The  Darlingtons 

"  Have  I  the  right,  now,  under  the  new  agreement?" 
he  asked  with  a  wan  smile. 

"  You  made  it,  Bert,"  she  said,  as  if  he  ought  to  know  ; 
and  his  heart  sank  with  love  at  her  coy  demeanor.  The 
interpretation  he  put  upon  the  agreement  evidently 
pleased  her,  though  she  flushed  a  little,  and  said,  "  Now 
gO;  dear." 

Elsie  went  upstairs,  and  sat  down  in  a  low  chair  with 
a  leather  writing-case  on  her  lap.  She  wrote  busily  in 
her  diary  for  ten  minutes,  and  then  went  to  bed,  leaving 
her  candle,  which  it  was  her  whim  to  use  instead  of  a 
lamp,  on  a  chair  close  at  hand.  For  an  hour  she  lay 
on  her  back  wide  awake.  Then  she  suddenly  blew  out 
the  candle,  turned  over  on  her  side,  and  went  to  sleep. 
She  had  decided  to  keep  her  grandparents  no  longer  in 
ignorance  of  her  true  relations  with  Bert  Darhngton. 
She  had  decided,  further,  to  tell  them  at  once  of  his  last 
spree.  Report  of  the  latter  would  come  to  their  ears, 
anyhow,  in  the  course  of  time. 

The  atmosphere  of  the  breakfast-table  was  not  en- 
couraging. Her  grandfather  was  unusually  glum,  and 
complained  of  not  having  slept  well.  He  said  some- 
thing also  about  having  heard  the  front  door  slam  in  the 
middle  of  the  night,  and  Elsie  did  not  think  it  necessary 
to  explain  that  Bert  had  left  before  eleven  o'clock,  and 
that  the  front  door  had  not  slammed  then.  In  spite  of 
the  unfavorable  conditions,  however,  she  waited  for  a 
period  of  silence,  and  then,  in  a  tremulous  voice,  she 
told  the  old  folks  all. 

A  dead,  ominous  silence  followed,  in  which  the  girl 
could  hear  her  heart  beat.  Mrs.  Clifford,  whose  exist- 
ence had  long  since  been  lost  in  that  of  her  husband, 


.«o 


''Because  I  Love  Him!  *'        125 

waited  in  timidity  for  his  fiat,  giving  Elsie  little  won- 
dering, reproachful  glances.  Mr.  Clifford,  however, 
maintained  a  portentous  calm  for  some  moments,  and 
continued  to  eat,  with  his  eyes  upon  his  plate.  At  last 
he  shot  an  abrupt  glance  at  Elsie. 

"  Is  n't  it  customary,  in  such  matters,  for  the  young 
man  to  ask  the  permission  of  the  young  woman's  guar- 
dian, before  he  marries  her  out  of  hand?"  he  asked, 
caustically. 

"  I  suppose  he  will  when  the  time  comes,"  she  said, 
conciliatingly.     "  As  matters  stand  now  —  " 

''  He  will  never  get  it !  "  thundered  the  old  man,  his 
anger  suddenly  bursting  forth.  "  Never  will  I  turn  my 
son's  child  over  to  that  young  reprobate  !  Never  will  I 
deliver  her  a  sacrifice  to  a  homicidal  maniac  !  Marry 
him,  if  you  will,"  he  ended,  threateningly,  ^'but  let  it  be 
known  to  the  world  to  be  against  your  grandmother's 
wishes  and  mine." 

"  Then  it  must  be  so,"  Elsie  answered,  softly. 

*'  Oh,  Elsie,  I  am  afraid  you  will  be  unhappy  ! "  ex- 
claimed her  grandmother. 

**  She  can  comfort  herself  with  the  thought  that  she 
isn't  the  first,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  dryly.  "And  she 
won't  be  the  last.  Girls  have  married  against  the  wishes 
of  their  parents  ever  since  marriage  was  an  institution, 
and  I  suppose  they  will  until  it  goes  out  of  date  —  and 
it  probably  will  soon,  at  this  rate.  If  you  will  make 
your  own  bed,  don't  grumble  at  having  to  lie  on  it.  We 
have  done  our  best  by  you.  We  warned  you  against 
that  man  the  first  night  he  ever  called.  We  might  have 
set  our  foot  down  positively  on  his  coming  here  then, 
but  we  did  not.  We  might  set  it  down  now  on  this 
marriage,  but  we  will  not.     We  will  not  be  arbitrary. 


/ 


^'■' 


126  The  Darlingtons 

Marry  him,  if  you  will,  but  with  the  full  knowledge  that 
it  is  against  the  wishes  of  those  who  have  always  had 
your  welfare  at  heart." 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  against  you,  grandpa, "  answered 
Elsie,  plaintively,  *'  you  and  grandmother.  But  in  this 
matter  I  must  be  judge.  I  know  you  have  my  interests 
at  heart,  but  I  know  Bert  better  than  you  do,  and  what 
he  is  capable  of.  I  know  that  he  is  as  true  a  man  as 
ever  lived,  and  good  enough,  with  that  one  exception, 
for  the  best  woman  that  ever  lived.  I  know  that  what 
you  say  about  his  drinking  is  true,  and  I  will  never  marry 
him  until  he  has  overcome  that  weakness  beyond  a  doubt." 

"When  will  you  know  that?"  asked  her  grandfather, 
astutely. 

"  When  he  has  stopped  for  a  year,"  she  answered. 

"And  after  you  have  given  him  yourself,  what  will 
you  bribe  him  with  for  another  year  ? " 

"  Now,  Henry  ! "  exclaimed  his  wife  at  this  thrust. 
Elsie  did  not  answer,  but  her  eyes  suddenly  filled  with 
tears,  and  her  lips  twitched. 

"  Do  you  know  what  people  will  say  about  your 
marriage  ? "  continued  the  old  man,  but  in  a  more 
kindly,  argumentative  tone.  "They  will  say  you  mar- 
ried him  for  his  money,  and  wTre  willing  to  put  up 
with  his  drinking  for  that." 

"  I  don't  care  what  they  say,"  she  answered,  swallow- 
ing a  hard  place  in  her  throat. 

The  old  man  was  about  to  add  something,  when 
Elsie  suddenly  dropped  her  knife  and  fork,  and  hurried 
from  the  room. 

"You  are  too  hard  on  her,  Henry,"  said  Mrs.  Clif- 
ford, sympathetically.  "  She  has  feehngs  on  this  sub- 
ject that  you  can't  understand." 


"Because  I  Love  Him!'*        127 

"  It 's  all  a  pack  of  nonsense, "  answered  Mr.  Clifford, 
impatiently.  "  I  'm  doing  it  all  for  her  good.  It 's  the 
only  way  to  bring  her  to  her  senses." 

"  I  don't  know  as  it 's  the  way  to  bring  her  to  her 
senses,"  returned  his  wife. 

When  the  old  man  had  taken  his  hat  and  stick  for 
his  usual  morning  walk,  Mrs.  Clifford  went  to  the  foot 
of  the  stairs,  and  called  up  to  Elsie.  No  answer  com- 
ing after  repeated  calls,  the  old  lady  slowly  climbed  the 
stairs  and  went  into  Elsie's  room.  The  girl  was  lying 
on  the  bed,  her  wet  face  buried  in  the.  pillow. 

''You  mustn't  cry  so,  dear,"  said  the  grandmother, 
soothingly.  "  And  you  must  n't  think  your  grandfather 
harsh,  because  he  means  it  all  for  the  best.  It 's  only 
his  way,  and  he  loves  you  just  as  much  as  I  do,  but  he 
thinks  you  are  taking  a  very  wrong  step.  I  do,  myself, 
dear.  Just  think  of  all  the  misery  that  drunkards  have 
made  in  this  world,  and  think  of  the  poor  girls  who 
have  died  of  broken  hearts.  They  all  persuaded  them- 
selves first,  just  as  you  have,  that  it  would  n't  be  so  in 
their  case.  They  all  thought  that  some  special  provi- 
dence or  good  luck  would  take  care  of  themP 

"You  don't  need  to  argue  that  way,  grandma," 
answered  Elsie,  brokenly,  but  with  spirit.  "  I  know  all 
that,  and  I  shall  never  marry  him  until  he  has  stopped, 
and  until  I  know  that  he  has  stopped." 

"Suppose  you  wait  a  year,  and  he  fails  to  stop," 
suggested  the  old  lady.  Elsie  made  no  answer,  and 
her  grandmother  continued  :  "  It  will  be  harder  to  break 
off  then  than  ever.  The  longer  he  comes  here,  the 
more  he  becomes  a  part  of  your  life.  You  may  go  on 
this  way  giving  him  probations  for  years,  only  to  find 
in  the  end  that  his  case  is  hopeless.     A  girl  has  her 


128  The  Darlingtons 

future  to  think  of,"  she  added,  practically.  "I  don't 
like  to  appear  mercenary,  but  you  have  reached  a  mar- 
riageable age,  and  — "  She  paused  at  an  impatient 
movement  from  her  granddaughter,  and  took  another 
tack.  "If  he  does  stop,  you  don't  know  for  how  long 
it  will  be.  It  is  a  fearful  risk.  For  all  you  know,  and 
for  all  he  knows,  he  might  get  drunk  on  your  wedding 
day.  Taking  all  this  into  consideration,  daughter,  why 
should  you  subject  yourself  to  such  a  terrible  hazard?" 

"  Because  I  love  him  ! "  cried  the  girl,  passionately. 

And  the  woman,  septuagenarian  though  she  was,  was 
silent. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE   problem's    SOLUTION 

Mrs.  Burbanks's  pension  lay  between  Carol  and  her 
father  for  the  next  few  days  like  an  impassable  barrier. 
With  her  brother's  fall  and  the  consequent  suffering  of 
the  whole  family  still  fresh  in  her  mind,  Carol  was  un- 
usually tender  and  susceptible ;  and  this  estrangement 
from  her  father,  impalpable  and  unacknowledged  though 
it  was,  pained  her  sharply.  Yet,  put  herself  in  her 
father's  place  as  she  might,  shuffle  the  facts  as  she 
would,  she  could  not  escape  the  conclusion  that  an  in- 
justice was  being  done,  and  she  believed  in  her  heart 
that  her  father  knew  it  too.  As  often  as  she  got  to  this 
point,  she  felt  like  crying.  Her  allegiance  to  her  father 
was  very  dear  to  her,  and  some  subtle,  evil  force  seemed 
now  to  be  breaking  that  allegiance  strand  by  strand. 

Whether  Darlington  was  conscious  of  doing  an  injus- 
tice or  not,  something  was  evidently  out  of  harmony  in 
him.  He  smoked  more  than  usual  —  and  he  always 
smoked  too  much ;  he  was  taciturn  to  a  degree  that 
excited  his  wife's  comment ;  and  he  was  more  or  less 
irritable. 

For  two  or  three  days  Carol  had  resisted  her  better 
angel's  promptings  to  open  the  Burbanks  case  once 
more  with  her  father,  and  make  a  clean  breast  of  her  con- 
flicting thoughts.     One  afternoon,  while  dictating  to  the 

9 


130  The  Darlingtons 

young  girl  who  acted  as  her  stenographer,  the  call  came 
again  in  unmistakable  terms.  She  had  been  unusually 
keen  and  cheerful  that  morning ;  but  in  a  flash,  as  it 
were,  the  office  seemed  to  grow  cold  and  cheerless,  her 
spirits  sank,  and  she  lost  all  heart  for  her  work.  Her 
inoffensive  stenographer  became  almost  odious  to  her, 
and  then  the  Burbanks  pension  smote  her  like  the 
memory  of  a  crime.  She  dismissed  her  stenographer 
abruptly,  and  with  tears  of  vexation  laid  her  head  on 
the  desk.  It  was  one  of  her  first  "  battles  royal "  with 
conscience.  It  did  not  last  long,  for  she  quickly  rose 
and  walked  into  her  father's  office. 

"  Papa,"  she  began,  abruptly,  "  I  think  we  ought  to 
pay  that  pension,  and  Bert  thinks  so  too.  I  have 
thought  it  all  over,  and  I  believe  we  ought  to  pay  it." 

"What  pension  ?  "  asked  her  father,  suavely,  affecting 
not  to  notice  her  agitation. 

^'Mrs.  Burbanks's,"  said  she. 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  think  of  that  again  ? "  he 
asked,  curiously.     "Seen  Kaltenborn?" 

"  I  have  thought  of  little  else  since  we  had  the  matter 
up  before,"  she  answered,  impetuously.  "  I  don't  know 
why  I  did  n't  say  so,  but  it  seemed  to  me  then  that  we 
were  doing  her  an  injustice,  and  it  has  seemed  more  so 
ever  since.  I  don't  want  to  meddle  with  what  belongs 
to  your  department,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  this  belongs 
to  every  department,  and  involves  the  whole  future  and 
welfare  of  the  road.  But  whether  it  does  or  does  not, 
papa,  I  had  to  tell  you  what  I  thought." 

"Well,  you  know  my  rule,"  said  Darlington,  seriously. 
"  I  am  no  dictator.  I  beheve  that  two  heads  are 
better  than  one,  every  time.  And  though  /  don't 
believe  that  pension  ought  to  be  paid,  as  I  have  often 


The  Problem's  Solution  i  3 1 

said  —  that  is,  that  justice  requires  it  to  be  paid  —  still 
if  you  and  Bert  believe  it  ought  to  be  paid,  why,  I  am 
overruled,  and  that 's  all  there  is  to  it,  and  it  will  be 
paid." 

"But  don't  you  honestly  think,  papa,"  she  began,  in 
a  voice  rich  with  feeling,  "  that  it  ought  to  be  paid  ?  " 

"  It  does  n't  make  any  difference  what  I  think,  Carol," 
he  answered,  gently.  '•'  When  I  gave  you  children 
your  respective  offices,  I  accepted  you  as  counsellors. 
I  gave  you  my  confidence,  and  asked  for  yours.  The 
property  is  as  much  yours  as  it  is  mine  —  some  day  it 
will  be  all  yours  —  yours  and  Bert's  and  the  rest.  If 
you  and  Bert  think  that  pension  ought  to  be  paid,  it 
shall  be  paid,  and  that 's  the  end  of  it." 

Carol  wrung  her  hands,  wavering  under  the  responsi- 
bihty  now  that  the  step  was  before  her.  "  I  don't  want 
you  to  do  it  just  because  I  say  so,  papa,"  she  said, 
tremulously.     "  I  don't  want  you  to  put  it  all  on  meP 

"  Bert  says  so,  does  n't  he  ?  "    asked  Mr.  Darlington. 

"  He  thinks  so,  and  he  said  so  when  I  asked  him 
about  it,  and  I  know  he  feels  as  strongly  about  it  as  I 
do.     But  —  " 

"But  what?" 

"If  he  hasn't  said  anything  to  you  about  it  —  if  he 
has  n't  thought  enough  about  it  to  say  something  to 
you,  I  don't  want  you  to  assume  that  you  are  over- 
ruled." 

"  Suppose  you  call  Bert  in,"  he  suggested,  quietly. 

When  Bert  had  been  called,  and  the  matter  had 
been  stated  to  him,  he  answered  with  a  confidence  that 
won  his  sister's  heart,  — 

"I  think,  father,  that  it  ought  to  be  paid.  I  have 
always  thought  so,  and  I  always  shall.     I  not  only  think 


132  The  Darlingtons 

it  is  just,  but  I  think  it  is  expedient.  I  think  that  by 
paying  it  the  road  will  be  money  ahead  in  the  long  run. 
I  think  that  it  will  create  a  better  feeling  among  the 
employes  and  with  the  public." 

"And  you,  Carol?"  asked  her  father,  formally,  as 
though  in  a  directors'  meeting. 

"  I  say,  pay  it." 

"Then  pay  it  we  will,"  said  Mr.  Darlington,  con- 
clusively, and  turned  to  his  desk  as  though  the  interview 
were  over. 

Carol  lingered  after  Bert  had  gone.  Now  that  the 
deed  was  done,  she  did  not  feel  as  happy  about  it  as 
she  had  expected  to  feel. 

*'You  don't  care,  papa,  —  do  you  —  much?"  she 
asked,  hesitatingly. 

"  Care  !  Why  should  I  care  ? "  But  there  was  a 
slight  intonation  of  injury  in  his  voice.  "  I  don't  pro- 
fess to  be  infallible.  You  and  Bert  ought  to  have  just 
as  good  heads  as  mine.  At  least,  I  give  you  credit  for 
it,  and  there  are  two  of  you,  and  only  one  of  me." 

"  I  don't  think  our  two,  though,  are  as  good  as  your 
one,  as  a  general  thing,"  she  answered,  with  an  affec- 
tionate smile.  "  But  this  time,  papa,  I  think  it  was  a 
question  of  heart,  maybe,  as  much  as  of  head,  and  for 
that  reason  I  feel  that  Bert  and  I  are  right.  I  wish 
I  could  make  you  feel  that  way,  too,"  she  ended, 
plaintively. 

The  president  laid  down  his  pen  again,  and  slowly 
swung  around  in  his  chair.  "  My  dear,"  he  began, 
impressively,  "there  are  two  sides  to  every  question. 
There  is  usually  a  good  deal  of  right  and  a  good  deal 
of  wrong  on  both  sides.  But  the  side  that  has  one 
grain  more  of  right  than  the  other,  is  the  right  side, 


The  Problem's  Solution  133 

and  the  side  we  ought  to  decide  for.  A  grain,  though, 
is  hard  to  weigh,  and  not  many  of  us  have  scales  fitted 
for  the  work ;  so  the  only  thing  to  do  is  to  accept  the 
weight  of  the  greatest  number  of  scales.  When  they 
say  that  the  voice  of  the  people  is  the  voice  of  God, 
they  mean  the  most  people.  The  other  day  Mr.  Kal ten- 
born  said  a  good  many  true  things.  So  did  I.  You 
believed  most  of  what  I  said,  and  most  of  what  he 
said,  but  you  think  now  that  he  said  more  true  things 
than  I  said.  Maybe  he  did.  And  if  you  think  so,  and 
he  thinks  so,  and  Bert  thinks  so,  we  've  got  to  say  so, 
and  act  accordingly.  But  you  see  that  I,  myself,  am 
not  in  a  position  to  see  it  that  way  —  could  n't  if  I 
wanted  to.  I  am  biased.  I  have  been  pointing  in  a 
different  way  from  Kaltenbom  ever  since  I  first  saw 
the  hght.  But  don't  for  one  minute  suppose  that  I 
think  any  the  less  of  you  and  Bert  for  what  you  believe. 
You  can't  help  what  you  believe  any  more  than  I  can 
help  what  I  believe.  And  I  don't  think  any  the  less  of 
your  judgment,  either.  I  am  just  as  likely  to  be  wrong 
as  you  are.  In  fact,  as  I  said  before,  the  chances  are 
against  me  in  this  case,  for  you  are  two  to  one." 

Carol  listened  with  thoughtful  eyes.  She  arose,  not 
just  satisfied,  apparently ;  nevertheless,  she  gave  her 
father  a  tender,  half-apologetic,  caressing  look,  and 
said,  — 

"  Papa,  I  'm  awfully  selfish  !  I  want  to  have  my  own 
way  without  paying  for  it.  I  want  to  ride  you  down, 
and  then  have  you  say  you  like  it  and  think  I  ought 
to  have  done  it.  I  would  n't  do  it  either,  if  I  were 
you." 

She  walked  slowly  toward  the  door,  pausing  to  glance 
aimlessly  at  a  letter  lying  on  the  table.     A  little  further 


I  34  The  Darlingtons 

on  she  picked  a  scrap  of  paper  up  from  the  floor.  As 
she  dropped  it  in  the  waste-basket,  she  moved  a  paper- 
weight an  inch  or  two,  and  then  glanced  out  of  the 
window.  She  seemed  loath  to  go  —  loath  to  leave  her 
father  unconvinced.  He  watched  her  curiously  until 
her  hand  was  finally  on  the  door-knob. 

"There's  this,  Carol,"  said  he,  as  though  continuing 
the  conversation,  and  she  stopped.  "  The  machinery 
of  the  world  is  not  so  nicely  adjusted  yet  but  that 
friction  is  bound  to  occur  now  and  then.  There  is  a 
kind  of  world-wide  injustice  at  work  somewhere  that 
nobody  in  particular  is  responsible  for.  You  may  say 
that  is  why  Mrs.  Burbanks  and  others  are  poor.  Some- 
times we  seem  to  be  helpless  to  correct  this  injustice. 
I  have  tried  in  this  matter  to  be  just  to  the  interests 
intrusted  to  me,  and  yet  it  may  be  that  that  very  justice 
involved  injustice  to  somebody  else  —  to  Mrs.  Bur- 
banks.  Of  the  two — the  railroad  and  her  —  she  is 
the  least  able  to  stand  injustice.  Looking  at  it  in  that 
light,  if  I  had  this  thing  all  to  do  over  again,  from  the 
beginning,  and  know  what  I  know  now,"  he  continued, 
qualifying  minutely,  "I  should  decide  as  you  have." 

"  I  am  so  glad,  papa !  "  exclaimed  Carol,  with  beam- 
ing eyes. 

She  walked  back  to  her  room  with  a  musing  smile  on 
her  face.  She  knew  just  what  that  admission  had  cost 
her  father.  It  made  her  happy,  too,  for  it  reinstated 
him  in  her  unquestioning  confidence,  and  called  for 
her  loyalty  once  more.  When  the  stenographer  re- 
entered, at  Carol's  ring,  she  glanced  curiously  and 
wonderingly  at  the  now  glowing  face  of  the  fair  official, 
so  recently  clouded  over. 

Carol  buttoned  herself  into  her  jacket  after  office 


The  Problem's  Solution  135 

hours,  peeped  into  the  glass,  tucked  her  hair  back  in 
one  place,  pulled  it  out  in  another,  and  then  sallied  out 
into  the  street.  After  reaching  her  home  she  kept  on 
for  three  or  four  blocks,  turned  once  or  twice,  and  finally 
came  to  a  halt  on  the  doorstep  of  a  little  ivy-covered, 
stuccoed  cottage.  The  walls  were  yellow  with  age  and 
blotched  with  dampness  ;  the  windows  were  small,  high, 
and  deeply  set;  the  door  was  surrounded  by  old- 
fashioned  marginal  lights.  But  altogether  the  place 
had  a  cozy,  home-like  appearance. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   WOMAN   OF  BUSINESS 

The  Rev.  Stephen  Kaltenborn  roomed  and  boarded  in 
this  house,  and  the  object  of  Carol's  call  was  to  inform 
him  of  the  railroad's  action  on  j\Irs.  Burbanks's  pension. 
But  after  she  had  been  shown  into  a  dark  little  parlor 
by  the  old  lady  who  answered  her  ring,  she  half  regretted 
her  coming.  It  did  not  seem  so  urgent  then  as  it  had 
seemed  an  hour  before  that  the  Rev.  Mr.  Kaltenborn 
should  know  that  the  H.  P.,  R.,  A.,  and  S.  had  done 
justice.  Indeed,  in  her  revulsion  of  feeling  —  a  revul- 
sion which  seemed  quickened  by  the  closeness  of  the 
little  unaired  room  and  an  odor  of  furniture  polish  — 
Carol  felt  as  if  her  errand  was  almost  quixotic.  More- 
over, the  fact  that  she  had  come  in  person  when  she 
might  have  written  gave  her  now,  in  the  ebb  of  her 
enthusiasm,  a  sense  of  vexation. 

Yet  her  visit  was  really  official,  and  in  no  wise  a  viola- 
tion of  any  social  convention  j  and,  furthermore,  a  verbal 
communication  of  her  news  had  some  advantages  over 
a  written  one.  One  of  these  advantages  was  the  oppor- 
tunity given  Carol  to  set  her  father  right  in  Kaltenborn's 
eyes,  and  it  was  just  this  thought  which  had  moved  her 
to  come  in  person.  But  as  she  stood  waiting  before 
the  fire,  it  seemed  to  her,  in  her  changed  mood,  that 
any  defence  of  her  father  was  uncalled  for  and  beneath 
her  dignity. 


The  Woman  of  Business         i  37 

Therefore,  when  Kaltenborn  entered,  buttoned  to  the 
throat  in  his  Prince  Albert,  Carol's  manner  was  conspic- 
uously reserved.  He  seemed  not  to  notice  this,  though, 
—  he  had  a  way  of  not  noticing  unpleasant  things, 
Carol  fancied  guiltily,  —  and  shook  hands  with  her, 
gravely  enough,  and  asked  her  to  sit  down.  This  she 
had  previously  decided  not  to  do,  but  there  was  some- 
thing subtly  authoritative  about  his  invitation,  so  that  it 
could  not  be  decHned  without  a  show  of  resistance,  as 
it  were.  Hence  Carol  sank  down  tentatively  upon  the 
edge  of  a  chair,  somewhat  with  the  appearance  of  a  bird 
momentarily  alighting. 

She  briefly  told  him  that  the  railroad  had  decided  to 
give  Mrs.  Burbanks  a  pension  of  one  hundred  dollars  a 
year.  Kaltenborn  did  not  seem  as  glad  as  Carol  had 
fancied  her  news  would  make  him,  and  she  half  believed 
he  was  revenging  himself  for  her  reserved  manner.  His 
remarkable  eyes  merely  brightened  a  Httle,  and  he 
thanked  her  as  calmly  as  though  the  granting  of  the 
pension  had  been  a  matter  of  course.  Carol  could 
have  bitten  her  lip  in  vexation  as  she  compared  his 
unruffled  demeanor  with  her  tears  and  heart-burnings 
over  the  subject. 

On  the  other  hand,  though,  Kaltenborn  manifested 
no  sense  of  triumph  whatever,  and  in  his  comments 
tactfully  avoided  the  personal  equation.  He  spoke 
touchingly  of  Mrs.  Burbanks's  fortitude  in  her  poverty, 
but  obviously  with  no  aim  at  effect.  From  Mrs.  Bur- 
banks's case  to  his  relations  with  his  parishioners  gener- 
ally was  but  a  step,  and  on  this  subject  he  discoursed  in 
the  simplest,  frankest  manner  imaginable.  His  language 
was  good,  his  words  flowed  smoothly,  and  there  was 
something  very  pleasing  in  his  round,  mellow  tones,  — 


138  The  Darlingtons 

something  indicative  of  reserved  power.  Almost  against 
her  will,  Carol  found  herself  becoming  interested ;  the 
half-rebellious  spirit  within  her  died  away,  and  she  took 
a  firmer  position  upon  her  chair.  Finally,  after  a  pause 
in  the  conversation,  Kaltenborn  looked  at  Carol  in  a 
distinctly  personal  way. 

"  If  I  may  ask,  how  long  have  you  been  connected 
with  the  road.  Miss  DarHngton?" 

"  About  two  years  —  ever  since  I  came  back  from 
school.  But  before  I  went  away  to  school  I  always 
loved  to  be  around  the  offices." 

"  Then  you  like  the  work." 

"Very  much." 

"  About  a  year  ago,"  said  Kaltenborn,  with  a  curious 
smile,  "  I  read  in  a  New  York  paper  an  account  of  a 
rather  wonderful  young  woman  who  was  auditor  of  a 
railroad." 

Carol  flushed  slightly,  but  said  nothing. 

"  The  article  was  illustrated  with  the  young  woman's 
picture,  but  I  don't  believe  I  should  have  recognized 
you  from  it,"  he  continued.  "  If  I  remember,  the  story 
gave  your  methods  of  work  in  detail,  and  characterized 
them  as  unique.  It  also  named  the  colors  you  affected 
in  dress,  and  your  favorite  author,  and  favorite  flower. 
I  forget  what  they  were.  I  think,  too,  that  it  gave  a 
list  of  your  social  accomplishments,  and  mentioned  your 
hours  of  rising  and  retiring,  and  also  a  favorite  horse  of 
yours.     Doubtless  you  saw  the  article  yourself." 

"  Yes,"  confessed  Carol,  laughing,  "  and  I  must  ad- 
mit having  that  clipping  tucked  away  with  some  of  my 
other  keepsakes.  I  don't  know  why,  though,"  she 
added,  frankly,  "  for  I  have  never  shown  it  to  any  one. 
When  I  first  saw  the  paper,  down  at  Whiting's,  folded 


The  Woman  of  Business         139 

so  that  my  picture  showed,  I  was  half  ashamed  of  my- 
self. I  did  n't  hear  the  last  of  the  matter  from  my 
father  for  six  months." 

"  Then  you  were  interviewed  ?  "'  smiled  Kaltenborn. 

"  I  suppose  you  would  call  it  that,"  she  said.  "  At 
least  a  young  man  came  into  my  office,  and  gave  me 
his  card,  and  said  he  was  representing  a  New  York 
daily.  At  first  I  supposed  he  wanted  to  write  the  road 
up.  It  is  a  rather  unusual  road,  in  some  ways,  you 
know.  We  talked  only  a  few  minutes,  and  I  did  n't  tell 
him  one-quarter  of  what  he  put  in.  From  the  way  he 
made  me  talk  in  that  article  people  must  have  thought 
I  was  a  grand  egotist."  She  broke  out  into  a  little 
laugh  at  the  recollection.  "  To  think  of  your  having 
read  that !  "  she  added,  curiously. 

"  And  doubtless  he  bribed  the  photographer  for  your 
picture,"  said  Kaltenborn,  amiably. 

"  No,"  she  laughed  again,  "  I  weakly  gave  him  that. 
My  father  was  responsible  for  that.  I  did  n't  really 
want  to  give  it,  but  my  father  said  I  might  as  well  be 
hung  for  a  sheep  as  a  lamb." 

"  Don't  you  get  tired  of  going  down  to  the  office 
every  day,  regularly,  whether  you  feel  like  it  or  not  ?  " 
asked  Kaltenborn,  thoughtfully,  after  a  moment. 

"  No.     I  have  my  bad  days,  of  course." 

*'  I  suppose  the  distinction  it  confers  upon  you  is 
some  compensation,"  he  observed,  with  a  touch  of 
humor. 

^'  I  presume  so,"  she  admitted,  smiling. 

"  And  you  like  the  contact  it  gives  you  with  a 
world  that  most  women  know  nothing  of —  the  business 
world  ? " 

''  I  do,"  she  returned.      She  suspected  that  this  cate- 


140  The  Darlingtons 

chism  was  being  made  in  a  critical  rather  than  an  in- 
quisitive spirit;  and  she  was  not  surprised,  therefore, 
when  he  asked,  — 

"  Don't  you  ever  feel  that  contact  with  men  in  a  purely 
business  way,  where  chivalry  can  have  no  part,  takes 
something  away  from  you  —  disillusions  you^  as  it 
were?  " 

"My  experience  is,"  she  returned,  promptly,  "that 
very  few  men  lay  aside  their  chivalry  with  a  woman 
even  in  business." 

"  Well,  even  at  that,  don't  you  feel  sometimes  as 
though  you  were  steering  your  bark  through  dangerous 
rapids,  when  you  might  be  floating  on  placid  waters  ?  " 

"  I  can't  say  that  I  ever  have,"  she  answered.  "  If 
I  had,  I  should  have  landed,  or  gotten  back  into  placid 
waters,  for  I  don't  think  my  spirit  is  adventurous.". 

Kaltenborn  smiled  approvingly.  "  I  am  glad  to  hear 
you  say  that,"  he  said.  "  Don't  let  your  business  spoil 
you,  if  you  must  be  in  business.  It  has  spoiled  many  a 
man,  and,  so  far  as  I  have  observed,  it  is  doubly  fatal  to 
women.  Don't  make  the  mistake  of  thinking  you  have 
to  be  one  person  in  the  office  and  another  at  home  or 
in  society.  Business  is  one  of  the  most  heavily  laden 
scapegoats  on  earth.  The  multitude  of  little  meannesses 
done  in  the  name  of  business  —  the  number  of  soul- 
shrivelling  bargains  driven,  is  astounding,  if  one  only 
stops  to  think.  Legality  seems  to  be  the  test  of  justice 
—  as  though  laws  were  perfect !  But  something  more 
than  even  justice  is  required  in  business.  Don't  you 
know  that  you  could  run  that  raikoad  all  your  life  and 
never  do  one  unjust  deed,  and  yet  die  with  a  soul 
warped  out  of  all  semblance  to  the  grand  thing  God 
meant  it  to  be?" 


The  Woman  of  Business         141 

"Oh,  I  know  it,"  said  Carol,  not  just  relishing  his 
preaching.  *'  But  I  think  being  in  the  office  has  done 
me  good.  I  think  it  has  broadened  me.  I  think  a 
little  business  experience  would  help  every  woman. 
You  learn  that  it  does  n't  pay  to  stick  too  much  for 
trifles,  where  larger  things  are  involved.  I  will  give  you 
men  credit  for  having  a  kind  of  immensity  about  you 
that  we  women  have  n't." 

"If  that  were  only  all  that  women  learn  in  busi- 
ness ! "   he  exclaimed,  regretfully. 

"  I  see  that  you  don't  approve  of  women  being  in 
business,"  she  laughed. 

"  I  don't,"  he  answered,  slowly,  after  a  second.  "  I 
believe  that  woman  has  a  higher,  holier  work  than  grind- 
ing out  dividends  on  investments.  I  have  been  preach- 
ing to  you,"  he  interpolated,  with  a  half  smile.  "  So  I 
will  now  use  a  parable,  with  your  permission."  He 
leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  folded  his  hands  in  a  cozy 
way.  Under  this  influence  Carol  herself  settled  more 
comfortably  into  her  chair,  and  prepared  to  listen. 

"  My  father,"  he  began,  "  once  owned  a  beautiful 
Arabian  mare.  She  ran  away  once,  unfortunately,  and 
was  never  safe  to  drive  again ;  in  fact,  she  could  not  be 
driven  at  all,  but  would  make  a  dash  the  moment  her 
head  was  turned  loose.  A  horse-trainer,  after  trying 
everything  else,  thought  she  might  be  cured  by  break- 
ing her  spirit,  as  he  called  it,  and  to  that  end  she  was 
hitched  to  a  stone  wagon,  with  three  heavy  draught- 
horses.  Untrained  to  the  work,  the  mare  fretted  herself 
continually ;  she  made  many  an  impatient  plunge  that 
never  budged  the  load  an  inch,  and  after  it  was  started 
she  was  always  wasting  her  strength  by  trying  to  go 
too  fast.    Altogether  she  probably  gave  about  half  the 


142  The  Darlingtons 

service  of  an  ordinary  draught-horse.  Her  wonderful 
speed,  her  spirit  and  endurance,  which  would  have  kept 
her  going  on  the  track  until  she  dropped  dead,  and 
which  were  the  result  of  generations  of  careful  breeding, 
all  went  for  nothing.  She  left  no  track  record  behind, 
and  did  nothing  to  develop  further  those  characteristics 
she  possessed  to  such  a  high  degree.  At  last  she  threw 
herself  and  broke  her  leg,  and  had  to  be  shot."' 

'^  Oh,  dear  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Darlington,  thinking 
more  of  the  horse  than  of  the  parable. 

"  A  woman  in  business  always  reminds  me  of  that 
mare,"  Kaltenborn  went  on.  "  Her  unfortunate  running 
away  may  be  likened  to  the  misfortunes  which  usually 
force  women  into  business.  The  rest  of  the  analogy  is 
plain." 

"  Well !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Darlington,  drawing  a  long 
breath,  but  looking  very  hopeful,  "  if  I  believed  the 
cases  were  analogous,  I  should  n't  rest  until  my  resigna- 
tion was  in.  But  I  think  you  take  us  business  women 
too  seriously,"  she  added,  lightly.  "You  men  have  a 
habit  of  doing  that  wherever  women  are  concerned. 
We  don't  take  ourselves  very  seriously,  I  believe,  —  in 
business,  you  know.  We  are  just  masquerading,  most 
of  us.  I  '11  admit  we  like  to  scare  you  men  a  little. 
And  of  course,  once  in  a  while  one  of  us  does  go  wrong, 
and  makes  up  her  mind  that  marriage  is  a  failure,  and 
all  that.  But  not  often.'*  She  looked  at  him  whimsical- 
ly out  of  her  shrewd  eyes. 

''  Then  you  don't  expect  to  be  an  auditor  always,"  he 
said,  smiling. 

"  I  did  n't  say  that,"  she  retorted  —  rather  prettily. 
''  I  don't  know  what  I  expect." 

"  Don't  you  expect  to  be  married  ?  " 


The  Woman  of  Business         143 

"I  don't  know  about  that,  either.  I  belong  to  the 
sex  which  stands  and  waits,"  she  added,  subtly. 

"  I  don't  imagine  that  you  would  have  to  stand  and 
wait  very  long,"  he  ventured  with  his  dry  humor. 

*'  That  would  depend  somewhat,  I  presume,  upon 
what  I  was  waiting  for,"  she  returned,  gracefully. 

Her  swinging,  fresh,  whole-souled  manner,  coupled 
with  the  humor  that  shimmered  in  her  eyes  and  nest- 
led in  the  corners  of  her  mouth,  compelled  Kalten- 
born's  admiration,  and  he  openly  acknowledged  it  with 
a  smile. 

"  Those  things  usually  adjust  themselves,  don't  you 
think  ?  "  he  asked  with  grave  drollery. 

"  Not  always,"  she  ventured. 

"No,  not  always,''  he  admitted,  looking  at  her  steadi- 
ly. He  evidently  concluded  that  she  might  have  had 
something  personal  in  mind,  for  he  added,  "  I  have 
never  married  myself  for  the  reason  that  I  have  never 
found  the  right  woman  standing  and  waiting.  But  that 's 
my  fault,  I  suppose,  not  the  women's." 

"  That 's  gallant,  I  am  sure,"  she  said,  "  But  I  should 
think,"  she  continued,  daringly,  "that  a  wife  would  be 
almost  a  necessity  to  a  preacher." 

''  She  is.  A  preacher  needs  three  things  primarily  :  a 
wife,  a  hbrary,  and  a  pulpit  lamp,"  said  Kaltenborn, 
drolly. 

He  was  certainly  improving,  and  Carol  laughed. 
"  That 's  a  rather  doubtful  compliment,  but  I  cannot 
doubt  your  intent.  You  don't  mean,  though,  of  course, 
that  a  minister  should  marry  just  to  get  an  assistant,  no 
matter  how  valuable  she  might  be." 

"I  suspect  they  sometimes  do,"  he  answered,  quite 
calmly. 


144  The  Darlingtons 

*•  Why,  Mr.  Kaltenborn ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  Vou 
would  n't  ?  " 

"  No,  I  would  n't.  But,  conversely,  I  should  feel  it 
my  duty  not  to  marry  any  woman  who  would  not  prove 
a  good  assistant." 

*^  Would  n't  that  be  about  the  same  thing?"  asked 
Carol,  doubtfully. 

''How?"  he  asked. 

"  If  you  married  a  woman  just  because  she  could 
assist  you,  that  would  be  wrong,  of  course,  —  as  we  just 
said." 

^'Yes." 

"  And  if  you  refused  to  marry  her  just  because  she 
could  no^  assist  you,  would  n't  that  be  wrong  too?  " 

'^How?" 

''Why,"  she  exclaimed  at  his  provoking  calm,  "be- 
cause you  love  her  and  she  loves  you.  All  requirements 
for  a  happy  marriage  have  been  met.  That 's  just  such 
a  marriage  as  we  say  is  made  in  heaven.  You  don't 
mean  to  say  it  would  be  right  to  break  it  off  just  be- 
cause you  happened  to  be  a  preacher  and  she  hap- 
pened to  know  nothing  about  theology?" 

"Theology  isn't  — " 

"  Well,  then,"  she  broke  in,  anticipating  his  objection, 
"just  because  she  was  n't  much  of  a  hand  at  visiting  the 
sick,  or  leading  prayer-meetings,  or  doing  anything  of 
that  sort.  Preaching  is  nothing  but  a  business,  in  the 
sense  we  are  considering  it."  She  paused  for  any  ob- 
jection to  her  classification,  but  he  answered,  — 

"  That 's  all.  But  I  should  n't  advise  any  man  to 
marry  a  woman  who  could  n't  help  him  in  his  busi- 
ness." 

*'  Oh,  that 's  absurd,  Mr.  Kaltenborn,  —  pardon  me ! " 


The  Woman  of  Business         145 

she  exclaimed,  thoroughly  in  earnest.  "  Suppose  a  man 
were  an  astronomer !  What  on  earth  could  a  woman 
know  about  that  business  ? " 

"  She  could  be  of  considerable  help,  without  knowing 
anything  about  the  business,"  he  answered.  "  Let  me 
put  my  principle  a  httle  differently.  I  would  n't  advise 
any  man  to  marry  a  woman  who  would  be  a  detriment 
to  his  business.  And  if  she  was  n't  a  help,  I  fancy 
she  'd  be  a  detriment.  There  's  no  neutral  ground.  I 
would  n't  advise  it,  because  such  a  woman  would  impair 
a  man's  usefulness.  Life  is  a  unit ;  a  man  is  a  whole 
man,  not  part  husband  and  part  astronomer;  and  a 
woman  marries  the  astronomer  as  much  as  she  marries 
the  lover.  More,  she  's  likely  to  find  out  before  she 
gets  through." 

Carol  looked  into  the  fire  a  little  dolefully,  and  was 
silent  for  a  moment.  "  It  seems  to  me  that  is  a  kind  of 
man's  view,"  she  complained.  "  It  does  n't  take  the 
woman  into  account  at  alL'^ 

**  Why,  yes,  it  does,"  said  Kaltenborn,  sympathetically 
regarding  her  sober  face.  "  If  a  man's  usefulness  is 
impaired  by  his  wife,  — if  she  is  out  of  sympathy  with  his 
work,  —  it  is  very  likely  to  make  him  unhappy;  and  he 
will  inevitably  visit  that  unhappiness  upon  her,  in  turn. 
My  rule  would  save  her  from  that  fate.  Besides,  the  rule 
works  both  ways.  I  should  advise  no  woman  to  marry 
a  man  who  would  interfere  with  her  work,  —  and  she 
need  n't  be  in  an  office  to  have  a  work.'* 

''  Well,  I  don't  know,"  she  exclaimed,  favoring  him 
with  a  little  unsatisfied  grimace,  and  patting  her  knee 
with  her  pocket-book.  *'  I  'm  out  of  arguments,  but  I 
can't  beheve  that.  Suppose  a  man  loved  a  woman  so 
that  he   could  n't   do   without   her  —  if  that   is  n't   too 

10 


146  The  Darlingtons 

romantic  for  you,"  she  interjected,  in  lighter  vein.  "  Sup- 
pose he  could  n't  do  his  work  without  her,  though  he 
knew  he  could  n't  do  it  as  well  with  her  as  he  had  done 
it  before  he  met  her !  " 

"  That 's  a  pretty  bad  case,"  answered  Kaltenborn,  his 
lazy  eyes  lighting.  "  I  think  marriage  would  probably  be 
the  best  thing  for  him,  provided  he  could  n't  get  a  new 
backbone  somewhere.'*' 

"  You  don't  think  much  of  that  kind  of  a  man,  I  see." 

"  No,  not  much,"  he  smiled. 

"  But  it 's  the  kind  of  woman  that  you  men  all  want, 
—  one  that  thinks  you  are  the  only  real  desirable  thing 
in  the  world." 

''  Not  quite  that  bad,"  he  protested. 

She  arose  with  a  laugh,  and  said,  with  an  air  of  chid- 
ing :  "  I  'm  afraid  5'ou  are  cold-blooded.  I  used  to 
think  I  was,  but  I  "m  —  I  'm  tropical  by  the  side  of  you." 

As  she  passed  out  of  the  gate,  though,  she  said  to 
herself  that  he  was  far  from  cold-blooded.  In  fact,  she 
suspected  that  he  had  a  hot  head  that  was  capable  of 
getting  him  into  any  amount  of  trouble.  He  had  ideas 
of  his  own,  too,  which  usually  means  more  or  less  trouble 
ahead,  she  reflected.  So  pronouncedly  were  these  ideas 
his  own  that  she  fancied  some  people  would  call  him  a 
crank. 

Kaltenborn  did  not  at  once  return  to  his  study,  but  sat 
looking  into  the  fire,  with  his  lips  slightly  pursed.  A  faint 
essence  hung  in  the  air.  It  was  not  perfume.  At  least, 
if  it  was,  —  and  in  sober  sense  he  knew  it  was,  —  it  had 
been  individualized  by  the  alchemy  of  Carol  DarHngton's 
person.  It  was  no  longer  violet,  or  crab-apple  blossom, 
or  whatever  else  it  might  once  have  been.     It  was  s/itr. 

Ten  years  before,  a  woman  like  Carol  Darlington,  he 


The  Woman  of  Business         147 

reflected,  would  have  stirred  him  wonderfully.  He  might 
possibly  have  wanted  to  marry  her,  for  in  those  days  he 
was  looking  for  a  wife.  But  now,  —  he  smiled  half 
sadly.  In  the  quiet  and  solitude  of  that  little  dark  parlor  he 
could  warm  up  this  girl's  image  in  his  fancy,  and  quicken 
his  pulse  a  trifle.  But  she  herself,  in  the  flesh,  had  not 
been  able  to  do  it ;  nay,  should  she  return  at  that  mom- 
ent, her  presence  would  rout  his  pleasing  fancy.  That 
was  why  he  smiled  half  sadly,  and  called  himself  a 
dreamer. 

A  dark  object  on  the  floor,  close  to  the  chair  Miss 
Darlington  had  occupied,  finally  attracted  his  attention. 
It  was  her  glove  !  He  looked  at  it  for  some  time,  coldly 
and  philosophically,  before  he  picked  it  up  and  laid  it 
across  his  knee.  It  still  retained  the  shape  of  the  deli- 
cate hand  of  the  wearer.  The  thumb,  though,  was  a 
little  out  of  joint,  and  he  straightened  that.  Next  he 
laid  his  own  broad,  thick  hand  alongside  the  dainty 
pattern,  and  over  it,  and  on  it.     Then  he  smiled. 

How  much  of  woman's  story  her  glove  tells  !  How  it 
hints  of  velvety  skin,  of  exquisitely  moulded  members,  of 
fragile  bones  I  How  it  clings  to  one's  hand,  and  shrinks, 
and  folds  itself  together  so  modestly  !  He  slipped  two 
of  his  fingers  into  the  glove.  They  seemed  to  fill  the 
space  her  whole  hand  would  occupy,  and  he  smfled  still 
again,  —  not  sadly  this  time,  but  tenderly.  Then  he 
withdrew  his  fingers,  as  though  they  were  guilty  of  prof- 
anation, and  smoothed  their  trace  away. 

The  door-latch  clicked,  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Kaltenborn 
hastily  concealed  the  glove  in  the  inside  pocket  of  his 
Prince  Albert,  in  a  rather  unclerical  way,  and  looked  up 
at  the  intruder  with  a  mild,  questioning  face.  It  was 
Mrs.  Hicks,  his  landlady  and  a  member  of  his  flock. 


148  The  Darlingtons 

"That  was  Miss  Darl'n'ton  that  was  just  here,  wasn't 
it  ? "  she  asked,  with  a  slight  cough  which  seemed 
affected.  She  sank  into  the  chair  recently  occupied  by 
Kaltenborn's  visitor,  and  smoothed  out  her  apron  with 
well-feigned  carelessness. 

'*  It  was,"  answered  Kaltenborn,  dryly. 

"  I  thought  so,  but  I  was  n't  sure.  I  ain't  seen  much 
of  her  of  late  years.  She  's  been  away  to  school,  and 
since  she  come  back,  she  's  shut  up  in  that  office  a  good 
deal  of  the  time.     I  guess  she 's  pretty  faithful  at  that." 

''I  believe  so,"  answered  Kaltenborn,  blankly. 

*'It  's  a  wonder  she  didn't  drive  up.  You  seen  that 
horse  of  her'n,  ain't  you?  They  say  it  cost  fifteen  hun- 
dred dollars.  It  don't  seem,  though,  that  a  horse  could 
be  worth  that  much.  And  if  it  was,  it  don't  seem  as 
though  anybody  could  be  foolish  enough  to  pay  that 
much  fur  it." 

"  They  do,  though,"  observed  Kaltenborn,  without 
attempting  to  straighten  out  her  economics. 

"They  race  him  on  the  track  every  fair  time,"  she 
continued,  affably.  "  They  did  this  last  fall,  just  before 
you  came,  and  he  won  considerable  money,  I  'm  told." 

Kaltenborn  said  nothing  to  this,  and  after  a  moment 
she  ventured  :  '^  It  never  seemed  right  to  me  for  people 
who  belong  to  a  church,  and  profess  to  be  Christians,  to 
be  racin'  horses  for  money.  Still,  I  always  held,  and 
always  will,  that  the  Episcopalian  church,  takin'  it  through 
and  through,  ain't  but  little  better  than  a  side-show. 
They  give  card-parties  and  dancin'-parties  right  in  their 
house,  too,"  —  she,  presumably,  meant  the  Darlingtons, 
—  "  and  I  understand  that  Carol  lets  some  of  the  young 
men  smoke  that  go  there  to  see  her.  Effie  Vincent,  that 
used  to  work  there,  told  me  that  herself.    '  T  ain't  to  be 


The  Woman  of  Business         149 

wondered  at  either,  the  way  her  father  smokes.  I  never 
seen  that  man  in  my  Hfe  without  a  cigar  in  his  mouth. 
You  've  heard  about  her  brother  Bert,  ain't  you  ? " 

Kaltenborn  had  not,  and  he  was  forced  to  listen  to  a 
detailed  and  somewhat  fanciful  account  of  Herbert  Dar- 
lington's sins  against  sobriety.  Again  he  refrained  from 
comment ;  but  not  so  much  this  time  to  express  his  dis- 
approbation of  the  old  woman's  gossip  as  because  he 
felt  saddened.  He  was  thinking  of  the  trial  a  dissolute 
brother  —  for  such  he  pictured  Bert,  from  Mrs.  Hicks's 
account  —  must  be  to  such  a  proud,  high-spirited  girl 
as  Carol  Darlington. 

"  I  suppose  they  find  their  justification,"  continued 
Mrs.  Hicks,  impartially.  "  But  it 's  different  from  the 
way  /was  taught  to  serve  the  Lord.  And  when  they 
take  their  father's  private  car,  and  carry  a  party  of  young 
people  over  to  High  Point,  a  hundred  miles  away,  on 
prayer-meetifig  nighty  to  see  an  opera,  with  a  lot  of 
shameless  hussies  in  tights,  I  say  there  ain"t  no  au- 
thority in  my  Bible  for  it." 

She  raised  her  head  challengingly,  and  the  hatred  she 
bore  the  DarKngtons  shone  venomously  from  her  eyes. 
Doubtless,  too,  she  instinctively  recognized  in  the  man 
before  her,  preacher  though  he  was,  a  toleration  of  these 
things  which  stirred  her  jealousy. 

"I  know  they  was  in  tights,  —  the  actresses,  —  fori 
seen  the  disgustin"  pictures  myself  in  Will  Harrison^s 
barber-shop ;  and  though  I  never  meddled  over-much 
with  Mr.  Hicks's  business  when  he  was  with  me,  if  he  'd 
'a'  been  alive  then,  I  '11  warrant  he  'd  have  never  shaved 
again  in  Will  Hairison's  shop,  which  he  did  for  twelve 
years  steady,  barrin'  the  last  six  months,  when  he  was 
too  weak  to  get  out." 


150  The  Darlingtons 

Kaltenborn  seemed  embarrassed  for  a  moment,  at  the 
close  of  this  harangue,  and  looked  as  though  he  would 
like  to  still  maintain  his  silence.  However,  he  said : 
"  I,  of  course,  advise  against  theatre-going,  for  the  dis- 
cipline of  our  church  forbids  it.  As  to  the  essential 
wrong  in  it,  I  am  not  prepared  to  say.  Some  plays  are 
good,  I  am  convinced,  while  I  am  just  as  thoroughly 
convinced  that  others  are  bad.  As  to  the  violation  of 
conscience,  that  is  largely  a  matter  of  education  —  of 
early  training  and  environment." 

"  Mr.  Collins  put  it  stronger  than  that.  He  preached 
a  sermon  on  it  the  next  Sunday  night."  (Mr.  ColHns 
was  Kaltenborn's  predecessor. )  "  He  announced  his 
subject  in  the  paper  that  week,  and  the  house  was 
packed.  I  guess  Carol  Darl'n'ton's  ears  must  have 
burned  that  night.  She  did  n't  carry  off  any  of  our 
young  people,  of  course,  for  they  don't  move  in  her  set ; 
but  Mr.  Collins  said,  in  the  beginning,  that  he  was  there 
to  preach  to  all  men.  Of  course  the  lnteUige7icer  did  n't 
publish  a  word  of  it ;  old  Nichols  is  bound  body  and 
soul  to  C.  A.  Darl'n'ton,  because  they  're  both  Republi- 
cans, and  he  gets  their  printin'.  But  the  Visitor,  over 
at  Munson,  published  a  column  of  it.  They  say  Mr. 
Darl'n'ton  openly  threatened  to  slap  Mr.  Collins's  face ; 
but  Mr.  Collins  went  right  down  to  his  office,  and  he 
denied  every  word  of  it.  I  won't  say  that  he  did  say  it, 
but  Mr.  Collins  told  me  himself  that  he  never  heard 
such  blasphemous  language  from  a  gentleman  in  his  life. 
Yet  people  profess  to  respect  the  Darl'n'tons.  I  don't 
know  why  it  is,  unless  it 's  because  they  're  so  handy 
with  their  money.  That  don't  influence  me.  I  never 
say  nothin'  against  them,  of  course.  They  go  their 
way,  and  I  go  mine,  and  I  s'pose  we  're  both  satisfied. 


The  Woman  of  Business         151 

But  I  can't  help  thi?ikm\  And  they  ain't  stingy  —  I 
will  say  that  for  them.  I  suppose  Carol  brought  you  a 
five-hundred-dollar  check  for  the  poor,  or  sunthin','' 
she  added,  artfully,  with  a  mirthless  chuckle  at  her  joke. 

"  No,"  said  Kaltenborn,  rising,  determined  not  to 
satisfy  her  curiosity. 

At  that  moment  it  struck  him  that,  if  Miss  Darlington 
should  return  for  her  glove,  it  would  place  him  in  a 
rather  delicate  situation.  The  thought  may  have  hast- 
ened his  departure  for  his  study.  As  he  walked  down 
the  hall,  and  his  mind  reverted  to  his  conversation  with 
the  young  woman  about  wives  and  their  capacity  for 
helping  their  husbands,  he  fancied  himself  introducing 
Miss  Darlington  to  Mrs.  Hicks  as  his  wife  and  co- 
laborer.     The  picture  provoked  a  smile. 

The  next  day  he  walked  down  to  the  H.  P.,  R.,  A., 
and  S.  offices,  with  Miss  Darlington's  glove  in  his 
pocket.  At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  he  halted  and  turned 
half-way  round,  as  though  in  doubt.  While  he  was 
standing  thus,  Tommy  Scrutcheons,  the  office-boy,  came 
down  the  stairs. 

"Take  that  up  to  Miss  Darhngton,  please,"  said 
Kaltenborn. 

Without  a  word  the  boy  took  the  glove,  turned 
around,  and  whistled  his  way  back  upstairs,  tossing 
Carol's  property  from  one  dirty  hand  to  the  other,  over 
his  shoulder,  after  the  manner  of  a  juggler.  Kalten- 
born watched  him  until  he  disappeared,  and  then  strode 
away. 


CHAPTER  XV 

TICKETS  AND   CHRYSANTHEMUMS 

Carol  briefly  announced  at  the  dinner-table,  with  some 
inward  trepidation,  that  she  had  notified  Mr.  Kaltenborn 
personally  of  their  action  on  the  pension. 

*' Could  n't  you  have  dropped  him  a  letter?"  her 
father  asked,  carelessly. 

"  I  could/'  she  answered,  "  but  my  notification  was  n't 
exactly  ofificial  —  and  I  was  up  that  way." 

"  What  were  you  doing  up  there  ?  "  asked  Ruth,  idly. 

"  I  don't  want  him  to  get  the  idea  that  we  are  anx- 
ious about  it,  that 's  all/''  said  Mr.  DarHngton,  before 
Carol  had  to  answer  Ruth's  query,  and  with  that  the 
subject  was  dropped. 

Carol  and  three  girl  friends  —  one  of  whom  was  Miss 
Blumenthal,  she  of  the  daring  costume  at  the  public 
reception  and  the  guest  of  one  of  the  girls  —  took  a 
drive  into  the  country  a  few  days  later.  For  the  ex- 
cursion Carol  used  the  family  carriage  and  a  pair  of 
powerful  blacks,  which,  from  their  uncertain  temper, 
had  been  dubbed  "Nip"  and  "Tuck."  Nobody  ever 
drove  the  iron-mouthed  creatures  except  Carol  and 
Herbert,  for  Mr.  Darlington  was  no  lover  of  horses,  and 
Mrs.  Darlington  was  afraid  of  them.  Carol  was  really 
the  only  one  who  found  any  pleasure  in  handling  the  pair. 


i 


Tickets  and  Chrysanthemums      153 

Their  tremendous  power,  with  its  element  of  danger, 
fascinated  her;  and  it  was  her  delight  to  swing  them 
around  corners,  or  guide  them  safely  through  the  tangle 
of  farmers'  teams  in  Main  Street  on  a  Saturday  after- 
noon, or  to  bring  them  up  prancing  and  snorting  when 
they  grew  too  high-spirited.  Neither  Bert  nor  her 
father,  when  either  happened  to  be  with  her  on  such 
occasions,  ever  thought  of  offering  her  any  assistance. 
She  would  have  resented  it  if  they  had. 

The  drive  ended  with  an  inspection  of  the  H.  P.,  R., 
A.,  and  S.  shops.  The  master  mechanic  himself,  after 
calling  a  shopman  to  watch  the  horses,  led  the  way  ;  and 
the  girls  trooped  along  behind,  daintily  screening  their 
dresses  from  the  omnipresent  grease  and  oil,  and  tip- 
toeing around  castings,  through  steel  filings  and  mould- 
ing-sand. From  the  shops  they  walked  over  to  the 
round-house,  half  a  block  away.  A  locomotive  had  just 
been  housed  and  was  still  under  steam.  Two  wipers 
were  at  work  upon  her,  while  a  portly  man  in  overalls, 
with  a  tight-fitting  cap  drawn  over  his  closely  cropped 
head,  stood  by,  pipe  in  mouth,  and  watched  them  work. 

"May  I  run  her  out  to  the  tank  and  back,  Mr. 
Reagan?  "  asked  Carol,  with  a  venturesome  light  in  her 
eyes. 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  should  n't,  Miss  Darhngton, 
as  long  as  your  paw  ain't  around,"  answered  the  en- 
gineer, with  a  good-natured  smile ;  and,  one  after  an- 
other, he  swung  the  young  women  to  the  high  step  of 
the  cab. 

"  My  !  I  never  knew  how  big  an  engine  was  be- 
fore ! "  exclaimed  Miss  Blumenthal,  looking  with  awe  at 
the  end  of  the  boiler,  with  its  intricacy  of  cocks,  water- 
glasses,  and  levers.     "  No  wonder  it  can  pull.     Do  you 


154  The  Darlingtons 


know  how  to  work  all  those  thmgs?  Have  you  ever  run 
one  before?"  she  demanded  of  Carol,  doubtfully. 

"  Well,  once  or  twice,"  answered  Carol,  boastfully,  as 
she  climbed  up  on  the  engineer's  leather-covered  seat, 
and  tucked  her  skirts  out  of  harm's  way.  Two  of  the 
girls  mounted  excitedly  and  half-fearfully  to  the  fire- 
man's seat. 

"  Well,  for  goodness'  sake,  don't  let  it  get  away  ! " 
exclaimed  Miss  Blumenthal,  who  preferred  to  stand, 
presumably  in  case  it  became  necessary  to  jump. 

"A  locomotive  is  a  she,  Rose,  not  an  it,''  explained 
Carol,  with  a  covert  laugh,  as  she  threw  forward  the 
reverse  lever. 

"  An  Amazon,  then,"  retorted  Rose,  with  bated 
breath  and  sparkling  eyes,  as  Carol  laid  a  gloved  hand 
upon  the  throttle  and  cautiously  pulled  it  partly  open. 
With  sharp,  long-drawn  hisses  —  Carol  had  opened  the 
cylinder-cocks  —  the  ponderous  machine  jarred  forward 
at  a  snail's  pace,  rumbled  over  the  quaking  turn-table, 
quickened  its  speed  a  trifle,  —  Miss  Blumenthal  gasped, 
—  and  then  slowed  down  and  stopped  at  the  water-tank, 
a  few  rods  further  on.  Carol  reversed  the  lever  dexter- 
ously, turned  in  the  steam  again,  and  they  started  back. 

"  I  have  n't  breathed  since  I  got  up  there ! "  declared 
Miss  Dane,  as  Reagan  lifted  her  down. 

"  I  was  deathly  afraid  a  spring  or  something  would 
break,  and  let  all  the  steam  out,  or  in,  or  whatever 
makes  it  go,  and  send  us  all  to  destruction  !  "  cried  Miss 
Blumenthal.  "  I  mean,  whatever  makes  her  go,"  she 
corrected,  slyly. 

"  You  girls  must  have  lots  of  faith  in  me,"  complained 
Carol.  "  And  you  would  all  make  fine  men,  especially 
engineers.     Imagine  yourselves  in  that  cab  at  midnight; 


Tickets  and  Chrysanthemums      155 

—  a  driving  rain  —  chances  for  a  washout  —  pitchy 
dark  —  able  to  see  about  forty  feet  ahead  —  three  or 
four  hundred  souls  behind  you,  all  in  your  hands  —  and 
nothing  between  you  and  death  except  a  score  or  more 
of  forty-dollar-a-month  switchmen,  who  may  or  may  not 
be  sober  !  "  She  turned  and  gave  the  engineer  a  kind 
of  fraternal  glance. 

He  nodded  approval.  "  I  could  n't  tell  the  story 
better  myself/'  he  answered. 

When  Carol  was  again  in  the  carriage,  pulling  on  the 
mouths  of  Nip  and  Tuck,  she  said,  laughing :  "  Reagan 
looked  immensely  heroic  under  that  panegyric  of  mine, 
and  he  is ;  but  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  's  a  poor  engineer. 
He  worked  in  the  shops  too  long.  He  's  too  much  of 
a  mechanic.  He  knows  too  much  about  the  delicate 
parts  of  a  locomotive,  and  he  won't  ptish  her.  If  he 
ever  gets  behind  time,  he  '11  stay  there,  nine  times  out 
of  ten,  to  the  end  of  the  run.  You  see,  he  knows  the 
delicate  parts  of  an  engine ;  he  's  afraid  something  will 
break.  If  he  had  never  been  in  the  shops,  he  would  n't 
have  that  fear ;  and  to  be  a  good  engineer,  you  Ve  got  to 
take  chances  on  something  breaking." 

"How  do  you  know  so  much  about  it,  my  dear?'' 
demanded  Rose,  pertly. 

"Because  my  papa  has  told  me!"  laughed  Carol, 
with  a  grimace. 

As  the  carriage  rumbled  down  a  smooth,  shady  street, 
Carol  saw  ahead  on  the  sidewalk  a  man  who  attracted 
her  attention,  not  so  much  by  his  size  as  by  the  mus- 
cularity of  his  movements.  She  almost  immediately 
recognized  the  figure  as  Kaltenborn's.  He  was  coming 
toward  them,  plowing  along  with  the  momentum,  ap- 
parently, of  a  steamboat.     She  was  conscious,  for  per- 


156  The  Darlingtons 


haps  the  twentieth  time  in  her  brief  acquaintance  with 
him,  of  noting  that  he  did  not  look  Hke  a  preacher, 
or  indeed  any  other  professional  man.  There  was  a 
lack  of  suavity.  Nor  did  he  look  like  a  merchant  — 
there  was  a  lack  of  spruceness,  or  deference,  or  some- 
thing else.  He  looked  like  a  man  interested  in  mining- 
stock,  she  fancied,  —  smiling  at  the  idea,  —  or  canals,  or 
something  else  that  she  had  only  the  haziest  knowledge  of. 

She  was  just  on  the  point  of  bowing  to  him  when  one 
of  the  horses  stumbled,  and  she  was  conscious  an 
instant  later  of  having  turned  her  eyes  from  Kaltenborn 
without  acknowledging  his  unmistakable  glance  of  recog- 
nition. At  the  same  instant  the  wind  whisked  her 
handkerchief  off  her  lap  and  out  of  the  carriage.  She 
saw  Kaltenborn  leave  the  sidewalk,  and  a  moment  later 
he  came  deliberately  up  with  the  handkerchief  in  his 
hand.  Carol  half  turned,  with  an  exclamation  of  thanks 
on  her  lips,  —  a  little  more  profuse  than  she  would  have 
made  it  under  other  circumstances,  —  and  partly  extended 
her  hand.  Kaltenborn  seemed  not  to  notice  the  move- 
ment, for  he  lifted  his  hat  and  placed  the  handkerchief 
in  the  hands  of  Miss  Blumenthal,  who  occupied  the 
back  seat.  She  exclaimed,  with  her  ready  vdvacity, 
"  Oh,  thank  you,  sir !     You  are  very  kind  !  " 

Carol  was  ashamed  of  her  childishness,  but  for  some 
reason  she  felt  vexed  at  Kaltenborn's  oversight,  and  she 
gave  the  horses  a  sharp  cluck  that  sent  them  dancing  on. 

"  Who  is  he  ?  ''  asked  Rose,  coquettishly.  "  I  have 
never  seen  him  before.  If  I  had  met  him  in  Berlin,  1 
should  have  set  him  down,  off-hand,  for  a  German  baron." 

"  He  's  a  preacher,*'  answered  Carol,  her  good-humor 
not  quite  recovered.  *'\Vhat  is  there  baronial  about 
him?" 


Tickets  and  Chrysanthemums      157 

'^Why,"  cried  Rose,  "that  Bismarckian  valor,  those 
blood-and-iron  eyes,  and  that  sublime  indifference.  We 
did  n't  move  him  any  more  than  a  bevy  of  tots  out  with 
their  nurses." 

After  letting  the  girls  out  at  their  respective  places, 
Carol  walked  the  horses  homeward.  The  thought  had 
crossed  her  mind  that  possibly  there  had  been  some 
method  in  Kaltenborn's  returning  her  handkerchief  to 
Miss  Blumenthal.  She  wondered  if  he  had  been  absurd 
enough  to  take  offence  at  her  apparent  slight.  She 
smiled  at  the  idea.  No  one  who  knew  her,  no  one  in 
her  "  set,"  would  have  dreamed  of  doubting  her  breeding 
so  easily ;  but  this  man  with  his  revolutionary  notions  ! 
Well,  he  did  not  know  her,  was  all  she  would  allow  her- 
self to  think  —  except  that  very  likely  he  was  of  a  sensi- 
tive nature.  Altogether,  she  was  sorry  the  thing  had 
happened.  But  it  really  did  not  matter.  She  might 
not  meet  him  again  for  months,  if  ever,  except  in  the 
street.  Still,  she  would  rather  have  his  good  than  his  ill 
opinion. 

She  did  meet  him  again,  though,  a  week  later.  One 
of  her  ticket-checkers,  a  young  woman  who  lived  out 
five  miles  on  the  line,  and  rode  to  and  from  her  work 
daily  on  the  cars,  had  been  sick  for  several  weeks. 
Her  reports  and  tickets  were  in  such  shape,  necessarily, 
that  none  of  the  other  checkers  could  straighten  them 
out.  The  first  of  the  month  approaching,  when  Carol's 
tabulated  statements  of  the  month's  business  were  due, 
she  one  afternoon  ordered  the  whole  mass  of  accumu- 
lated material  bundled  up,  and  drove  out  to  Clifton  in 
a  single-seated  buggy  drawn  by  the  two  blacks.  No 
stretches  of  sand  could  retard  the77i,  which  was  hardly 
the  case  with  Whitefoot. 


158  The  Darlingtons 

She  found  the  girl  sitting  up,  close  to  a  stove,  and 
carefully  wrapped  against  any  possible  draughts.  She 
might  have  shivered  at  her  visitor's  entrance,  for  Carol 
swept  into  the  stuffy  sick-room  like  a  puff  of  fresh  air, 
with  her  tawny  hair,  blown  around  her  temples,  looking 
a  shade  lighter  by  contrast  with  her  wind-flushed  cheeks. 

She  dropped  her  bundle  of  tickets  on  the  floor  just 
inside  the  door,  as  she  entered,  and  sat  down.  The 
closeness  of  the  room  at  once  oppressed  her,  and  she 
began  to  unbutton  her  jacket.  The  mother  of  the  girl 
stood  back  timidly,  half-awed,  even  before  she  knew  who 
Carol  was,  by  that  indefinable  possession  which  marked 
the  visitor  as  belonging  to  another  world.  When  the 
girl  introduced  the  two,  the  older  woman  extended  a 
thin,  toil-worn  hand,  in  a  hesitating  way,  and  glanced 
at  her  daughter,  —  apparently  to  ascertain  the  propriety 
of  the  act. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  up,  Lizzie,"  said  Carol,  cor- 
dially.    "  Have  you  been  very  sick  ?  " 

"  I  'm  a  great  deal  better,  thank  you,"  answered  the 
girl,  with  a  flush  of  pleasure  on  her  pale  face.  "  I  hope 
to  go  to  work  Monday.  The  doctor  says  I  ought  not, 
for  another  week ;  but  I  know,  if  I  get  to  work,  I  '11  im- 
prove faster.     I  'm  so  restless  here  all  day." 

^'  She  's  been  frettin'  about  losin'  her  place,  if  she 
stayed  away  too  long,"  interrupted  the  mother,  with  a 
smile  meant  to  express  the  absurdity  of  such  fretting. 
"  But  I  told  her  she  need  n't  worry  about  that.  Her 
father  worked  too  long  for  the  road  for  Mr.  Darl'n'ton 
to  turn  her  off  for  a  spell  of  sickness." 

The  convalescent  shot  a  warning  glance  at  her  mother 
■ —  which  the  latter  seemed  to  be  entirely  prepared  for  — 
and  hastened  to  explain,  with  another  flush,  — 


Tickets  and  Chrysanthemums      159 

*'  I  don't  know  as  I  worried  about  that  so  much.  I 
guess  I  'm  not  very  patient.  But  everything  seemed  to 
wear  on  my  nerves  so,  and  I  hate  to  think  of  my  work 
getting  behind,  with  the  reports  coming  on." 

"  You  get  your  mind  off  those  reports,"  said  Carol, 
practically.  "  You  must  n't  go  out  before  you  are  well. 
There  is  nothing  gained  by  tliat,  you  know.  A  relapse 
in  the  case  of  grip  is  very  bad,  they  say,  and  no  doubt 
it 's  grip  you  have." 

"  That 's  just  what  I  've  been  tellin'  her,  Miss 
Darl'n'ton,"  broke  in  the  mother  again,  with  an  air  of 
triumph.  ''  Go  out  a  week  too  soon,  and  then  come 
back  for  a  month.  I  told  her  you  'd  understand  that, 
and  would  n't  expect  her  back  before  she  was  well  and 
strong  again.     But  she  would  have  it  —  " 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  interrupted  the  daughter,  as  if  fearful 
of  another  indiscretion  on  the  part  of  her  mother.  "  I 
keep  worrying  about  my  work  when  I  know  I  ought  n't 
to,  but  somehow  I  can't  help  it." 

'''  I  can  sympathize  with  you  there,"  said  Carol,  drop- 
ping her  eyes,  with  a  shifting  movement,  to  the  bundle 
of  tickets,  which  Lizzie's  mother  had  been  furtively 
eyeing.  "When  I'm  sick,  —  which  is  not  very  often, 
I  'm  thankful  to  say,  —  I  am  doing  my  work  night  and 
day." 

"  There  's  been  so  much  grip  out  this  way,  this  fall," 
said  Lizzie's  mother ;  '•  and  we  've  had  one  death,"  she 
added,  impressively.  "  Mr.  Hatch's  little  girl.  The 
third  death  in  the  family  in  two  years.  Maybe  you 
know  him.     They  used  to  live  in  town." 

Carol  shook  her  head,  and  said  "  No,''  and  Lizzie 
began,  as  if  doubting  Miss  Darlington's  interest  in 
Clifton  affairs  :    "  It 's   very  kind  of  you  to  call,  Miss 


i6o  The  Darlingtons 

Darlington.  It 's  so  lonesome  out  here,  shut  up  in 
the  house,  especially  in  the  fall.  Everything  is  so 
melancholy  then,  anyway,  —  to  me.  There  's  no  com- 
pany here  whatever.  I  used  to  think  I  'd  like  to  be 
agent  here,  after  father  died,  but  I  don't  beheve  I  could 
stand  it  now  —  after  going  to  town  every  day  for  so  long." 

"  There  's  worse  holes  than  Clifton,  Lizzie,"  said  her 
mother,  reprovingly,  —  a  statement  which  Carol  rather 
doubted.  "  Still,  I  will  say,"  she  added,  in  extenuation 
of  her  daughter's  remark,  "that  there's  nobody  here 
that  we  care  much  to  associate  with.  We  don't  have 
much  in  common  with  these  people,  Lizzie  working  in 
town,  and  us  both  goin'  to  church  there."  This  last 
with  a  touch  of  pride.  "  There 's  few  enough  here 
that  go  to  church  anywhere,  for  that  matter,"  she  added. 

A  mild  light  shone  from  Carol's  eyes  which  might 
possibly  have  become  a  smile  under  other  circumstances. 
"I  can  see  how  that  is,"  she  said.  After  a  momentary 
pause  she  added  :  "  Lizzie,  I  bundled  up  your  tickets 
before  I  came  out,  and  brought  them  along.  I  thought 
perhaps,  if  you  could  straighten  them  out  with  me,  the 
other  girls  could  go  on  with  the  work,  and  the  reports 
would  n't  be  delayed  very  much,  after  all.  But  if  you 
don't  feel  like  it,  you  must  say  so." 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  exclaimed  the  girl,  with  an  eager  glance 
toward  the  bundle.  "  Leave  them  here,  and  I  '11  fix 
them  up  alone.  I  'd  sooner  do  it  than  not.  It  will  be 
a  relief  to  have  something  to  do,  and  to  know  that  my 
work  is  not  getting  behind.  I  thought  once  of  writing 
to  you  and  asking  you  to  do  that  very  thing,"  she  con- 
tinued, happily,  ^^but  I  was  afraid  you  wouldn't  like  to 
have  the  tickets  go  out  of  the  office." 

"  So  long  as  you  take  good  care  of  them,  and  grab 


Tickets  and  Chrysanthemums      i6i 

them  the  first  thing  in  case  of  fire,"  laughed  Caro!.  "  I 
brought  a  bottle  of  red  ink  along,  too,  and  your  red-ink 
pen.  I  forgot  tabulating  blanks,  but  you  can  rule  up 
any  paper  for  that.  Or  I  '11  send  them  out  in  the  morn- 
ing  on  No.  12.  That  will  be  best,"  she  added,  defi- 
nitely, the  thought  striking  her  that  paper  might  not  be 
as  plentiful  in  that  household  as  in  her  own.  "  In  the 
meantime,  you  can  be  sorting  the  tickets  and  getting 
ready." 

When  the  ticket  question  had  been  disposed  of,  and 
while  Carol  was  waiting  a  decent  length  of  time  before 
rising,  Lizzie's  mother  asked,  — 

*'  Did  you  meet  Mr.  Kaltenborn  coming  out,  Miss 
Darl'n'ton  ?  " 

"Mr.  who?"  asked  Carol,  though  she  had  heard 
distinctly. 

"  Kaltenborn,"  said  Lizzie.  "  He  *s  our  new  minister. 
You  know  we  attend  the  Methodist  Church.  He  left 
here  just  before  you  came." 

"No,  I  didn't  meet  him,"  answered  Carol.  ''Per- 
haps he  took  the  other  road.  I  came  out  the  hay- 
meadow  road.     It 's  better  driving,  I  think." 

"  He  walked,"  explained  Lizzie,  with  a  laugh,  though 
it  was  plain  that  this  divulging  of  their  pastor's  lowly 
means  of  travel  humihated  the  older  woman.  "  I  never 
saw  such  a  man  to  walk,"  Lizzie  ran  on,  perhaps  to 
soothe  her  mother's  pride.  ^'  He  walks  out  here  in  a 
little  over  an  hour.  Sometimes  he  drives,  and  some- 
times he  comes  on  the  train,  but  in  fine  weather,  he  says, 
he  prefers  to  walk." 

"  He  says  it 's  a  rehef  from  studyin'  so  much/'  added 
the  motherj  sedately. 

"He  brought  me  those,"  said  Lizzie,  pointing  with  a 

II 


1 62  The  Darlingtons 

glow  of  pride  and  pleasure  to  a  cluster  of  chrysan- 
themums in  a  vase  on  the  table. 

"  Oh,  how  beautiful !  "  exclaimed  Carol.  "  And  how 
thoughtful,"  she  added,  quite  sure  that  the  flowers  had 
come  from  a  greenhouse.  "  And  I  brought  tickets  !  " 
she  exclaimed,  self-accusingly. 

"I  wouldn't  want  him  to  hear  me  say  it/'  began 
Lizzie,  "  for  it  was  very,  very  kind  in  him  to  bring  them, 
but  I  beHeve  the  tickets  v/ill  do  me  more  good  than  the 
flowers.  But  I  appreciate  them  just  as  much,"  she 
added,  conscientiously. 

"Of  course  you  do!"  said  Carol.  "Which  you 
can't  say  of  the  tickets.  But  how  do  you  like  Mr. 
Kaltenborn  as  a  minister?" 

"  I  think  he  ^s  lovely  ! "  answered  the  girl,  enthusi- 
astically, her  earlier  timidity  all  gone.  "And  I  guess 
most  of  the  other  members  do.  At  first,  I  did  n't.  He 
seemed  at  first  to  be  —  well,  I  don't  know  —  kind  of 
cross,  don't  you  know.  Not  that,  either,  but  —  well, 
unfeehng  and  arbitrary.  But  he 's  just  the  opposite. 
He 's  as  kind  and  thoughtful  as  he  can  be.  Of  course, 
there  are  a  few  who  don't  like  him,"  she  added,  truth- 
fully, 

"Some  sore-heads,"  contemptuously  interposed  her 
mother,  who  was  also  growing  bolder. 

''Well,  some  of  the  older  people,"  qualified  Lizzie* 
"  some  who  wanted  Mr.  Collins  returned.  They  don't 
think  Mr.  Kaltenborn  is  spiritual  enough.  They  say 
he  preaches  too  much  about  this  life,  and  not  enough 
about  the  life  hereafter.  He  does,  for  that  matter. 
That  is,  he  says  that  if  people  know  how  to  live,  they 
will  know  how  to  die.  He  says  *  Thy  kingdom  come,* 
in  the  Lord's  prayer,  means  for  us  to  bring  the  heavenly 


Tickets  and  Chrysanthemums      163 

kingdom  to  earth,  and  not  to  wait  till  we  die  to  get  to 
it.  He  is  all  the  time  saying  that  it  is  not  only  people's 
right,  but  their  duty,  to  be  cheerful  and  happy,  and  to 
get  the  most  they  can  out  of  hfe.  You  know  there  are 
some  people  who  think  that 's  pretty  near  heresy,"  she 
added,  with  a  quaint  little  learned  look,  while  her  eyes 
gleamed  at  her  own  daring  handling  of  the  subject. 
"That  is,  I  suppose  they  really  beheve  that  we  ought 
to  be  happy  here,  but  they  don't  think  it  ought  to  be 
preached.  They  think  a  preacher's  business  is  to  talk 
about  the  other  world.  But  I  don't !  "  she  exclaimed, 
emphatically.  "  And  most  young  people  don't.  He 's 
very  popular  with  the  young  people." 

"  Even  though  he  won't  let  them  dance  !  "  smiled 
Carol. 

"Well,  the  discipline  forbids  that,  you  know,"  said 
Lizzie,  more  soberly,  and  Carol  felt  that  any  jests  along 
this  line  would  be  out  of  order.  So  she  added,  humor- 
ously, — 

"  I  can  just  fancy  Mr.  Kaltenborn  —  I  have  met  him 
once  or  twice  —  at  loggerheads  with  some  of  those 
strait-laced  old  fellows.  If  it  ever  comes  to  a  battle,  I 
imagine  it  will  be  something  royal,"  she  laughed. 

"  It  has  once  already  —  in  a  stewards'  meeting  ! " 
exclaimed  Lizzie,  with  the  exultation  of  a  partisan. 
"  Old  Eldridge  Betts  got  up  and  told  Mr.  Kaltenborn 
that  he  would  have  to  stop  ladling  out  that  worldly 
slush,  or  he  would  n't  pay  another  dollar  of  quarterage." 

^^  Rot,  he  said,  Lizzie,"  corrected  the  mother,  demurely. 

"  Well,  something  like  that ;  and  Mr.  Kaltenborn  got 
up,  pretty  red  in  the  face,  they  say,  and  told  old  Eld- 
ridge that  as  long  as  he  was  in  the  pulpit  he  would  ladle 
out  what  he  saw  fit ;  and  that  he  'd  ladle  it  out  free  of 


164  The  Darlingtons 

charge,  if  any  dissenting  members  did  n*t  see  fit  to  keep 
their  pledges  in  the  way  of  quarterage ;  and  that  when 
the  majority  of  the  members  of  the  church  got  tired  of 
his  brand  of — I  don't  know  what  he  called  it  —  he'd 
step  down  and  out — and  not  before." 

Carol  laughed  again,  with  genuine  enjoyment ;  and 
after  listening  to  a  few  more  instances  of  the  inharmonies 
in  the  Methodist  Church,  she  took  her  departure. 


^ 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A  MATTER   OF  HORSEMANSHIP 

When  Carol  was  seated  in  the  buggy  again,  the  "  marsh  " 
road  —  the  one  Kaltenborn  must  have  taken — stretched 
straight  away  before  her.  The  other  and  better  road  — 
the  one  over  which  she  had  come  —  lay  behind.  She 
lifted  the  lines  aimlessly,  and  the  horses,  after  a  moment 
of  sagacious  hesitation,  went  straight  ahead  down  the 
marsh  road.  Had  they  turned  around,  Carol  would 
have  let  them  go  that  way,  she  told  herself. 

The  day  was  a  perfect  type  of  Indian  summer  — 
blue  atmosphere,  warm  sunshine,  painted  fohage.  The 
goldenrod  flaunted  its  plumes  along  the  roadside ;  the 
fields  had  a  brown,  demure,  rested  look,  as  though  their 
work  was  done,  and  well  done,  and  they  were  waiting 
to  be  put  to  sleep  under  their  blankets  of  snow.  Here 
and  there  a  crow  winged  its  labored  flight  across  a  field 
of  corn  ;  the  sleeping  woods  were  occasionally  wakened 
by  the  harsh  scream  of  a  jay ;  a  red  squirrel  scurried 
across  the  road ;  a  gopher  reared  its  little  body  rigidly 
in  the  air  from  the  withered  grass  in  a  fence-corner,  its 
tiny  paws  folded  humanlike  upon  its  breast,  its  beautiful 
eyes  glistening  with  a  mixture  of  audacity  and  fear. 

All  this  Carol  saw,  and  tried  to  love  —  and  failed. 
She  recalled  with  pleasure  the  days  when  she  used  to 
go  nutting,  but  they  seemed  a  long  way  back,  a  part  of 


1 66  The  Darlingtons 

the  irreclaimable  past ;  and  she  did  not  feel  as  sorry 
over  it  as  she  wished  she  might.  She  was  quite  willing 
to  be  a  child  of  the  town. 

During  these  meditations  Kaltenborn  was  more  or 
less  in  her  mind,  and  she  half-unconsciously  scanned 
the  road  ahead  for  a  sight  of  him.  It  was  fifteen 
minutes,  though,  before  he  came  into  view.  There 
was  no  mistaking  then  that  broad  back  and  that  stride. 
As  she  passed  him  at  almost  a  walk,  she  called  out, 
cheerily,  — 

'^  Mr.  Kaltenborn,  I  have  heard  all  about  your  con- 
stitutionals. I  sha'n't  ask  you  to  ride,  because  I  know 
you  would  refuse.'^ 

"  But  I  would  n't !  "  he  called  back,  instantly ;  and 
Carol,  with  a  laugh,  pulled  the  horses  to  a  stand-still. 
She  retained  the  whip  side,  and  Kaltenborn  climbed  in 
on  the  left. 

"  Who  has  been  telling  you  about  my  constitutionals  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Oh,  one  of  those  Httle  birds  that  are  such  incor- 
rigible tell-tales,"  she  answered,  gaily.  "  It  also  told  me 
of  your  habit  of  carrying  clusters  of  chrysanthemums 
about,"  she  added,  with  a  side  glance. 

"  Good  works  cannot  be  hid,"  he  commented,  with 
a  smile.  '"You  have  evidently  been  out  to  Mrs.  Car- 
son's too." 

"  Yes.     Lizzie  is  one  of  my  clerks,  you  know." 

"One  of  your  most  loyal  ones,  too,"  he  returned. 
"  I  should  be  almost  afraid  to  have  any  one  entertain  of 
me  the  opinion  she  has  of  you." 

"  I  suppose  I  must  n't  ask  what  it  is,"  she  returned, 
lightly,  but  her  face  flushed  deeply  with  pleasure. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  should  tell  you,  if  you  did." 


A  Matter  of  Horsemanship      167 

'^Why  should  you  be  afraid — if  you  won't  tell  me 
her  opinion?  " 

"  I  should  be  afraid  of  doing  something  to  destroy 
her  faith,"  he  replied. 

The  flush  still  lingered  on  Carol's  cheek,  and  het 
lashes  drooped.  '•  I  am  afraid  her  faith  is  not  founded 
on  a  rock,"  she  said. 

"I  think  she  has  reasons  for  it,"  said  Kaltenborn, 
confidently.  "  She  admires  your  cleverness.  She  thinks 
you  have  a  wonderful  head  to  be  able  to  do  a  man's 
work ;  and  your  sitting  in  directors'  meetings,  and  mak- 
ing reports  and  suggestions,  excites  little  less  than  awe 
in  her.  I  was  going  to  say  I  wished  you  could  have 
heard  her  describe  one  particular  directors'  meeting, 
when  you  had  her  there  for  some  purpose  or  other  —  to 
help  you  find  the  different  documents  quickly,  I  believe." 

"I  remember,"  said  Carol.  ''We  were  organizing 
the  statistical  department." 

"  That  was  it.  But  I  'm  afraid  that,  if  you  had  heard 
her,  it  would  have  been  too  much  of  a  strain  on  your 
modesty."  He  paused,  and  Carol  smiled  a  little.  "  But, 
after  all,"  he  continued  more  gravely,  "do  you  know 
what  makes  her  admire  you  most  —  what  makes  her 
/ove  you  ?  It  is  because  she  has  never  heard  you  say  a 
cross  word  to  a  clerk." 

*^  I  never  have,"  said  Carol,  simply.  "  I  have  never 
had  occasion  to  say  one  to  her.  She  's  a  very  faithful 
and  a  very  efficient  worker." 

"I'm  glad  you  called  on  her,"  pursued  Kaltenborn, 
after  a  moment.  "  Your  call  will  do  her  more  good 
than  ten  from  somebody  else.  She  was  worrying  a  little 
over  her  work,  too,  and  I  think  possibly  about  her  posi- 
tion.   I  understand  she  has  been  sick  a  good  deal." 


i68  The  Darlingtons 

*^She  has,"  answered  Carol,  ''but  she  needn't  worry 
about  her  jDOsition.  She  's  another  Johnnie  Burbanks, 
in  one  respect,"  she  smiled.  "  Her  father  was  agent  at 
CHfton  from  the  time  the  road  was  built  until  his  death." 

"  I  wanted  to  tell  her  about  Johnnie  Burbanks,"  he 
interpolated.    "  A  little  of  the  inside  history,  you  know." 

Carol  looked  down  under  the  horses'  swiftly  moving 
feet  at  the  white  road  sweeping  under  them  in  dizzy, 
wavering  lines.  There  was  some  inside  history  in  that 
case  which  she  was  glad  Kaltenborn  did  not  know. 

"  I  have  one  little  confession  to  make  to  you,  Mr. 
Kaltenborn/'  she  spoke  up,  with  a  queer  smile.  "  My 
visit  to-day  was  not  wholly  disinterested.  In  fact,  it  was 
wholly  interested.  I  went  out  there  to  get  Lizzie's  work 
straightened  out,  and  took  her  a  bundle  of  tickets  and 
blanks.  So  you  see,"  she  concluded,  archly,  '^  that  your 
commending  remarks  about  my  calling  were  coals  of 
fire  on  my  head." 

Kaltenborn  glanced  at  the  shapely  head  upon  which 
he  had  unconsciously  been  heaping  hot  embers,  and 
smiled  faintly.  ''  You  would  n't  have  gone  except  for 
the  work?"  he  asked. 

"  I  had  not  gone,"  she  answered,  evasively. 

"  Did  you  ever  go  to  see  her  before  when  she  was 
sick  —  without  tickets  ?  " 

"Just  once." 

"  You  talked  to  her  this  time  —  asked  about  her  im- 
provement—  wished  her  well  —  told  her  not  to  worry 
about  her  work?  " 

*'  Oh,  yes.     I  am  not  entirely  hardened." 

"  You  saw  that  it  pleased  her  and  did  her  good?" 

"Yes,"  she  admitted. 

"And  it  gave  you  a  sense  of  pleasure?" 


A  Matter  of  Horsemanship      169 

^'  Yes." 

'^  And  you  are  glad  now  that  you  went  ?  " 

**  Oh,  yes,"  she  still  assented,  now  smiling  broadly. 

''  So  glad  that  you  may  be  tempted  to  renew  the 
pleasure  some  time,  either  by  going  there  or  to  some 
other  sick-room?" 

"  1  don't  know,  Mr.  Kaltenborn,"  she  answered, 
frankly.  "  I  'm  ashamed  to  confess  it,  but  I  don't  like 
to  visit  the  sick.  The  stuffy  rooms,  and  the  smell  of 
medicine,  and  the  muffled  door-bells,  and  the  tip-toeing 
about  and  whispering  simply  take  the  gimp  out  of  me. 
It  gives  me  the  horrors.  Of  course,  Lizzie  is  not  that 
sick.  And  I  don't  mean  my  friends.  It 's  different 
with  them,  and  of  course  I  do  visit  them.  I  can  talk 
to  them.  But  to  go  and  visit  people  that  I  don't  know, 
and  don't  have  anything  in  common  with,  and  ask  them 
how  they  are,  and  offer  consolation  "  —  she  flashed  him 
a  glance  — ''  I  simply  can't  do  it.  I  feel  like  a  hypo- 
crite, and  I  imagine  all  the  time  that  they  are  resenting 
it.  I  don't  suppose  they  are,  though  I  know  I  should  ; 
but  it  simply  is  n't  in  me  to  palaver  over  people  in  that 
way,"  she  concluded,  earnestly. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  would  have  you  palaver,  exact- 
ly," answered  Kaltenborn. 

Carol  burst  into  a  quick  laugh.  '^  I  didn't  mean  pala- 
ver either  —  that's  one  of  papa's  words,"  she  explained, 
with  a  shght  blush.  "  But  I  mean  to  —  well,  I  don't 
know;  papa  would  say  'slosh  around,'  and  that  really 
about  expresses  it."  She  laughed  again,  a  httle  discon- 
certedly,  and  looked  at  Kaltenborn  appealingly. 

*'  You  don't  even  have  to  '  slosh  around,'  "  said  Kal- 
tenborn, laughing  quietly.  "  When  you  go  into  the 
humblest  sick-room,  I  would  not  have  you  lay  aside  one 


170  The  Darlingtons 

jot  or  tittle  of  anything  that  your  advantages  have  given 
you.  Carry  your  ideals  in  with  you  — just  as  you  do  to 
your  friends.  Never  fear  but  you  will  be  understood, 
and  will  confer  a  benefit." 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Carol,  doubtfully.  ''  Don't 
you  think  one  is  likely  to  be  thought  priggish?" 

"  Not  once  in  a  hundred  times,"  he  rephed,  decidedly. 

"  Well,  you  ought  to  know,"  she  returned,  but  still 
unconvinced,  as  he  could  see.  *'  Do  you  know,  I  'm  a 
little  afraid  of  real  poor  people." 

"  I  perceive  that,"  he  answered,  dryly. 

They  were  approaching  a  threshing-machine  at  work 
in  a  barnyard  close  to  the  road,  and  Nip  and  Tuck 
began  to  quiver.  Carol  tightened  her  lines,  and  took 
out  the  whip.  As  they  came  abreast  the  noisy  machine 
the  horses  lunged  violently  to  one  side,  and  broke  into 
a  run.  Bracing  herself  against  the  iron  foot-rest,  Carol 
directed  the  powerful  animals  as  best  she  could,  without 
wasting  too  much  strength  in  trying  to  check  them  pre- 
maturely. At  the  same  time  she  worked  upon  them 
with  her  voice. 

Her  face  was  lively  with  a  daring  pleasure  rather  than 
fear.  The  road  at  this  point  and  for  some  distance  be- 
yond was  bordered  with  a  level,  grassy  stretch,  and 
along  this  the  horses  plunged  for  several  rods.  Then 
Carol  got  them  back  into  the  road  again,  where  she 
kept  them  without  great  difficulty.  But  her  efforts  to 
stop  them  were  unavaiKng.  Her  strength,  multiphed 
many  times  though  it  was  by  bit  and  rein,  was  but  a 
puny  force  with  which  to  oppose  the  broad-haunched, 
great-muscled,  and  now  thoroughly  frightened  animals 
in  front  of  her.  Still  she  persisted  courageously,  with 
set  hps,  in  sawing  their  mouths 


A  Matter  of  Horsemanship      171 

Kaltenborn  sat  perfectly  still,  with  one  arm  over  the 
back  of  the  seat,  in  the  position  he  had  occupied  when 
the  horses  took  alarm.  He  had  either  perfect  confi- 
dence in  Carol's  horsemanship  or  a  knowledge  of  her 
sensitiveness  on  that  subject  and  a  willingness  to  humor 
it  at  the  risk  of  broken  bones.  Even  when  Carol's 
bosom  began  to  heave  from  her  violent  exertions,  he 
made  no  motion  to  help  her.  Once  he  drew  his  hat  a 
little  tighter  on  his  head,  for  their  speed  was  creating  a 
stiff  breeze. 

"  My  arms  are  getting  very  tired  !  "  she  gasped  at  last. 

Kaltenborn,  with  an  inscrutable  expression,  instantly 
reached  for  the  Hnes,  grasping  them  well  in  front  of  her 
hands.  As  his  powerful  figure  stiffened,  the  horses' 
necks  doubled,  and  their  speed  instantly  slackened, 
with  a  shock.  But  careful  not  to  put  too  much  strain 
on  the  harness,  he  let  them  run  a  Httle  longer,  until 
their  fright  gave  way  to  the  intolerable  pain  in  their 
mouths  from  the  drawn  bits,  and  they  came  down  to  a 
quivering,  nervous  prancing.  Kaltenborn  held  the  lines 
a  little  longer,  that  Carol's  arms  might  have  a  further 
rest.  He  could  see  that  she  was  still  much  more  cha- 
grined than  frightened. 

"  That's  the  first  time  they  ever  got  the  best  of  me," 
she  said,  with  a  laugh  which  failed  to  conceal  her  pique. 
"  I  suppose  if  I  had  been  alone,  I  could  have  stopped 
them,  as  a  matter  of  necessity.  But  I  cried  for  quarter, 
and  I'll  admit  it.  Yet  I  have  driven  horses  all  my  Hfe, 
and  I  never  saw  one  yet  that  I  was  afraid  of.  I  'm  the 
only  one  in  the  family  who  cares  to  drive  these,  and 
both  Bert  and  papa  are  pretty  good  horsemen.  I  used 
to  drive  a  span  of  broncos  when  I  was  seventeen  —  and 
you  know  what  broncos  are.     Yet  I  never  had  an  acci- 


172  The  Darlingtons 


dent,  nor,  before,  anything  as  nearly  approaching  one  as 
this  to-day."  She  bit  her  Hp  a  little  to  hide  its  trem- 
bling —  to  Kaltenborn's  amazement. 

"  The  most  important  lesson  a  horseman  learns  is 
that  any  horse  can  run  away  with  any  driver,  if  he 
makes  up  his  mind  to  do  it,"  he  returned,  soothingly. 

*'  I  know  that/'  she  said,  humbly.  '^  But  they  did  n't 
run  with  you." 

"  Others  have,"  he  replied,  "  and  possibly  I  'm  a  little 
stronger  than  you,"  he  added,  smihng. 

"  You  know  that  handhng  horses  is  not  a  matter  of 
strength,"  she  said,  reproachfully. 

"  Sometimes  it  is.  It  was  at  the  stage  when  I  took 
hold." 

"  I  should  never  have  let  them  reach  that  stage,"  she 
returned,  ruefully.     "You  have  driven  before." 

^^Yes." 

"  Do  you  keep  a  horse  now  ?  " 

"No." 

*'  I  should  think  you  would  be  lost  without  one,"  she 
exclaimed,  glad  to  get  off  the  subject  of  runaways.  "  1 
believe  I  should  miss  our  horses  more  than  anything 
else  we  have,  even  the  piano." 

*'  I  miss  mine,"  he  said,  and  there  was  a  note  of  re- 
gret in  his  voice  which  arrested  her  attention.  But  he 
carried  the  theme  no  further,  and  began  to  talk  about 
something  else  than  horses. 

When  he  got  down  in  front  of  Mrs.  Hicks's,  Carol  said, 
with  some  embarrassment,  "  Please  don't  say  anything 
about  this  —  the  runaway.  If  mamma  found  it  out, 
she  would  never  be  easy  again  with  m.e  out  behind 
Nip  and  Tuck.  And  —  I  don't  want  anybody  else  to 
know  it.     I  'm  ashamed  of  it !  " 


A  Matter  of  Horsemanship      173 


iC 


My  lips  are  sealed/*  Kaltenborn  answered,  with  a 
comprehensive  smile. 

^'There's  one  thing  I  should  like  to  know,"  she  be- 
gan, hesitatingly,  and  paused  in  slight  confusion.  "  Why 
did  you  make  me  ask  for  help,  Mr.  Kaltenborn  ?  " 

Again  that  inscrutable  expression  came  over  his  face, 
and  it  made  her  uncomfortable.  "  Because  I  was  n't 
sure  until  then  that  you  needed  help." 

"Was  that  the  only  reason?"  she  asked,  doubtfully. 

'^What  other  reason  could  there  be?"  he  asked, 
evasively. 

"  Well,"  she  observed,  humbly,  "  if  you  had  taken  the 
lines  unbidden,  it  would  n't  have  been  quite  so  humili- 
ating to  me.  I  shouldn't  have  had  to  confess  my 
helplessness." 

'*  Confession  is  said  to  be  good  for  the  soul,"  he  re- 
turned, with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

*'  I  was  quite  sure  that  you  thought  so,"  she  answered, 
quickly,  as  she  lifted  the  hnes.     ''Good-bye.^ 


}) 


CHAPTER  XVII 

pro's  and  con's 

At  the  dinner-table  Ruth  asked,  "  Who  was  that  man 
you  had  out  riding,  Carol?  "  Her  intonation  turned  all 
eyes  on  Carol. 

"That  was  a  German  nobleman,"  answered  Carol, 
coolly.     "Didn't  he  look  like  one?" 

*'  I  never  saw  a  German  nobleman,"  answered  Ruth, 
shortly.     "  Who  was  he  ?  " 

"  A  German  nobleman,  I  tell  you,  a  baron,  or  some- 
thing of  the  kind,"  answered  Carol,  provokingly.  Pos- 
sibly she  was  also  trying  to  cover  the  least  embarrass- 
ment. 

Ruth  tossed  her  head.  "  I  thought  he  was  some 
kind  of  a  foreign  specimen,"  she  said,  sarcastically,  "  and 
I  judged  from  his  complexion  that  he  hailed  from  a 
land  where  there  is  no  pubHc  sentiment  against  beer." 
Kaltenborn  was  certainly  ruddy,  but  Ruth  was  just  as 
certainly  drawing  on  her  imagination  now. 

"  Ruth,"  interposed  Mrs.  Darlington,  "  your  language 
at  times  is  a  little  pronounced  for  a  young  girl.  Tell 
her  who  you  were  with,  Carol." 

"  A  German  nobleman  who  is  at  present  studying 
American  customs  incognito,  under  the  alias  of  Stephen 
Kaltenborn.  He  has  even  gone  so  far  as  to  palm  him- 
self off  on  the  Methodist  Church  here  as  a  minister  of 
the  gospel." 


Pro's  and  Con's  175 

Ruth,  still  unconciliated,  asked  scathingly,  "  Did  he 
talk  religion  to  you  ?  " 

"  To  hear  you  talk,  Babe,  one  would  think  I  was  a 
pagan,  instead  of  a  member  in  good  standing  of  the 
Episcopal  Church,"  said  Carol,  sweetly. 

Mr.  Darlington  glanced  up  with  his  humorous  twinkle. 
'^  Helping  him  with  his  pastoral  calls  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  She  was  probably  giving  him  a  few  pointers  on 
dancing  and  card-playing,"  suggested  Bert.  "  We  may 
look  for  a  fulmination  against  these  vices  next  Sunday 
night,  a  la  Collins." 

Carol  waited  until  their  witticisms  were  spent,  and 
then  explained  how  Kaltenborn  happened  to  be  riding 
with  her. 

"  I  hear  he  's  a  very  different  man  from  Mr.  CoHins," 
said  Mrs.  Darlington.  "  He  addressed  the  Ladies'  Aid 
Society  last  week,  and  gave  a  very  sensible  talk.  He 
has  evidently  given  systematic  charities  a  good  deal  of 
thought." 

"  Mamma  will  be  having  him  around  to  dinner  next," 
suggested  Ruth,  saucily.  "  If  that  little  Jap  were  only 
here  now,  and  those  two  Chaldeans  that  worked  mamma 
for  ten  dollars,  we  could  have  a  lively  little  dinner-party, 
with  Mr.  Kaltenborn  as  guest  of  honor."  Her  roguish 
face  at  the  moment  was  the  picture  of  her  father's, 
softened  by  youth  and  sex,  for  she  was  also  dark.  A 
general  laugh  followed  this  shot  at  Mrs.  Darlington's 
recognized  weakness  for  any  charlatan  approaching  her 
in  the  name  of  religion.  Bert,  however,  gave  her  a 
sympathetic  smile,  in  addition. 

"  I  think  it  would  be  perfectly  proper  to  have  him 
here  for  dinner  some  day,"  she  said,  defensively.  "  He  's 
a  stranger  here,  comparatively,  and  I  think  it  would  be 


ii 


176  The  Darlingtons 

a  nice  thing  to  let  him  know  that  he  has  the  sympathy 
and  good  wishes  of  some  people  outside  his  own 
church." 

"  Have  him  around,  then,"  said  Darlington.  '^  If  I  'm 
any  judge  of  human  nature,  he  'd  enjoy  a  quiet  httle 
smoke  out  of  sight  of  his  parishioners.." 

"  I  suspect  you  are  no  judge,  then,  Charles,"  returned 
Mrs.  Darlington,  quietly. 

"I  don't  doubt  he  has  smoked,"  remarked  Bert. 
"  Where  do  you  imagine  he  was  educated  ?  "  he  asked, 
knowingly. 

"  Where  ?  "  asked  Carol,  curiously. 

''Heidelberg,"  said  Bert. 
What  Heidelberg  ? "  demanded  Carol,  sceptically. 
Heidelberg,  Germany." 

''  Who  told  you  ?  "  she  asked,  still  incredulous. 

"  The  gentleman  himself." 

"Then  he  was  probably  born  in  Germany,"  said 
Carol,  thinking  of  Rose  Blumenthal's  German  baron. 

"  No,  in  this  country,"  answered  her  brother. 

"  Where  do  you  suppose  he  got  the  money  ? "  she 
asked,  having  in  mind  also  what  Kaltenborn  had  said 
about  once  owning  horses. 

''I  didn't  ask  him,"  Bert  returned,  facetiously. 

"  Probably  by  fighting  grasping  corporations,"  sug- 
gested Mr.  Darlington,  at  which  Carol  flushed  slightly. 

"  His  church  may  possibly  have  sent  him,"  said  Mrs. 
Darlington.  "  I  know  they  help  to  educate  their  poor 
young  men." 

*'  I  guess  they  don't  send  many  of  them  to  Europe," 
observed  Darlington. 

When  Carol  went  to  her  room  to  write  some  letters, 
later  in  the  evening,  Bert  followed  her.     The  bond  be- 


Pro's  and  Con's  177 

tvveen  these  two  was  strong.  Bert  was  as  different  from 
his  father  as  one  of  the  same  blood  could  well  be.  He 
utterly  lacked  his  father's  shrewdness  and  many  other  of 
those  business  qualities  which  appealed  so  vividly  to 
Carol's  imagination.  Yet  she  never  regarded  Bert's 
capacity  lightly.  His  popularity,  in  the  first  place,  im- 
pressed her ;  his  dignity  was  superior  to  his  father's, 
more  substantial  and  genuine ;  and  he  was  possessed  of 
a  conscientiousness  in  even  the  most  trivial  matters  that 
sometimes  made  his  elder  sister  blush  for  herself. 

Bert,  in  return,  held  his  sister's  intellect  in  unbounded 
admiration.  Her  very  subserviency  to  the  expedient  — 
perhaps  the  weakest  point  about  her,  and  utterly  op- 
posed to  Bert's  simple  nature  —  was  regarded  by  him 
as  an  unmistakable  mark  of  her  superiority.  He  wor- 
shipped it  as  tact,  and  something  hopelessly  out  of  his 
reach. 

Carol  wrote,  and  Bert  smoked  and  read,  neither 
speaking  for  some  moments.  Finally  Carol  paused, 
and  drumming  on  her  teeth  with  her  penholder,  asked, 
casually,  "  Is  that  true  about  Mr.  Kaltenborn  going  to 
Heidelberg?" 

Bert  nodded  yes. 

"  Then  he  must  have  had  money  once,"  she  returned, 
conclusively. 

"  Not  necessarily.  He  may  have  worked  and  saved 
enough  money  to  go  to  Germany.  He 's  been  preach- 
ing only  a  short  time,  and  he  must  be  thirty-five  or 
forty." 

"He  isn't  forty,"  she  observed.  ''I  wonder  who  or 
what  his  family  is." 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Bert,  without  much  in- 
terest, and  without  lifting  his  eyes  from  his  book. 

12 


178  The  Darlingtons 

Carol  wrote  on  for  another  minnte.  "Where  did 
you  meet  him  ? "  she  asked. 

"  I  don't  know  —  Fillingham's  drug-store." 

"  When  ? " 

"Two  or  three  weeks  ago." 

"  You  never  said  anything  about  it.'' 

"  Was  it  so  important  ?  "  he  asked,  smiling. 

Carol  turned  to  her  writing  again,  after  this  warn- 
ing, but  Bert  went  on  of  his  own  accord.  "  There 
was  a  crowd  of  us  in  the  back  part  of  the  store  when 
Kaltenborn  came  in,  and  Bert  Benson  introduced  him 
around,  with  a  kind  of  a  smirk  on  his  face  as  though  it 
were  a  joke." 

"  I  'm  not  surprised,"  said  Carol,  contemptuously. 
"  Nothing  that  young  gentleman  does  surprises  me  any 


more." 


"  When  the  crowd  started,  a  minute  later,  to  go  up 
to  the  club  to  play  pool,  Benson  asked  Kaltenborn  if 
he  wouldn't  go  too." 

Carol  turned  in  her  chair,  and  looked  at  her  brother 
sharply.  There  was  no  doubt  of  his  earnestness. 
"What  did  he  say?"  she  asked,  indignantly. 

"  He  refused,  of  course,  —  very  graciously,  though, 
and  we  walked  up  home  together." 

For  a  moment  Carol's  eyes  gleamed  hotly,  but  shortly 
grew  softer.  "  What  do  the  boys  think  of  him  ? '''  she 
asked. 

"  I  have  n't  heard  them  say.  They  probably  don't 
see  much  of  him." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  then  about  going  to  Heidelberg  ? " 
she  asked. 

"  Yes.  He  mentioned  a  duel  he  fought  there."  Bert 
looked  up  with  a  grin  as  he  said  it. 


Pro's  and  Con's  179 

"  A  duel ! "  exclaimed  Carol,  again  swinging  in  her 
chair.     "  You  are  yarning,  Bert  ! " 

*'  Honor  bright.  The  next  time  you  see  him  close, 
you  look  for  a  little  scar  on  his  right  temple.  He  came 
within  an  ace,  he  said,  of  losing  his  eye." 

"  How  in  the  world  did  he  ever  happen  to  do  such  a 
thing  as  fight  a  duel  —  a  minister  of  the  gospel?"  she 
asked,  with  a  little  shudder  at  Bert's  reference  to  the  eye. 

"  I  don't  know  that  he  was  a  minister  then,  or  even 
thought  of  being  one.  In  fact,  come  to  think,  I  know 
he  was  n't,  for  he  was  only  twenty-two  then." 

Carol  nibbled  the  end  of  the  penholder  a  minute, 
thoughtfully.    "  How  did  he  happen  to  tell  you  about  it  'i  " 

"  I  don't  know.  The  fellows  had  been  talking  about 
French  duels  before  we  left  the  drug-store.  Cash  said 
something  about  seeing  one  when  he  was  in  Paris,  and 
Kaltenborn  and  I  continued  the  talk." 

Carol  turned  back  to  the  table,  and  wrote  on  for  a  few 
minutes,  with  a  clear,  Hquid  light  in  her  eyes,  which 
seemed  to  indicate  that  she  was  carrying  on  two  mental 
processes  at  the  same  time,  —  one  for  herself,  the  other 
for  her  correspondent. 

"  Did  he  tell  it  as  though,  —  in  a  boastful  way,  —  as 
though  he  wanted  you  to  know  that,  while  he  was  a 
preacher,  he  was  no  tenderfoot  ?  "  she  asked,  finally. 

"  it  did  n't  strike  me  so,"  Bert  answered,  and  with  that 
the  subject  was  dropped.  After  a  little  Bert  rose  and 
stretched  himself.  He  was  not  much  of  a  reader,  nor 
were  any  of  the  Darlingtons,  for  that  matter,  except  pos- 
sibly Ruth.  ''  I  think  1 11  go  up  and  see  Elsie  a  minute," 
he  yawned. 

Carol  gave  a  short,  taunting  laugh.  "  A  minute  !  Why 
don't  you  say  you  are  going  to  spend  the  evening  ?   Elsie 


i8o  The  Darlingtons 

would  be  delighted  to  see  you  apologizing  here  with  your 
minutes  and  your  yawns." 

**  I  am  not  going  to  spend  the  evening,"  answered 
Bert,  briefly.     "  I  am  going  to  lodge  about  nine." 

"  What  on  earth  do  you  people  find  to  talk  about  ? '' 
asked  Carol,  half  in  earnest. 

"  We  generally  speculate  on  what  you  and  Cash  Winter 
talk  about,"  answered  Bert,  dryly. 

"  You  are  improving,  brother,"  said  Carol,  acknowl- 
edging the  point  of  his  wit  with  a  smile.  She  added, 
with  a  touch  of  seriousness,  though,  "  Cash  was  here  last 
a  week  ago  last  Wednesday  night.  He  may  be  here 
again  this  week,  and  he  may  not." 

Bert  was  standing  behind  her.  Dropping  the  remains 
of  his  cigarette  into  a  bronze  ash-tray,  which,  by  reason 
of  Bert's  social  habits,  was  a  necessary  adjunct  to  Carol's 
furniture,  he  laid  his  hands  upon  her  shoulders,  and  said, 
knowingly,    '^  You  won't  break  your  heart  if  he  is  n't." 

"  No-o,"  she  admitted,  slowly,  doubtful  about  encour- 
aging this  form  of  brotherly  guardianship. 

After  a  moment  he  murmured,  *'  I  nearly  broke  her 
heart,  sis,  the  last  time."  It  was  the  first  allusion  between 
them  to  his  recent  fall. 

*'  Such  things  do  break  hearts  sometimes,"  she 
answered,  gently  but  firmly.     ''  Remember  that !  " 

Mrs.  Darlington  was  not  a  woman  of  much  originality, 
but  when  she  did  conceive  a  project  she  was  slow  to 
rehnquish  it.  Consequently  Kaltenborn  received,  not 
many  days  later,  an  invitation  to  dine  at  the  Darlingtons'. 
Carol  fancied  that  he  might  not  accept  it.  He  was 
sensitive,  for  one  thing,  she  had  discovered,  and  he  might 
regard  the  invitation  as  a  form  of  patronage.    Moreover, 


Pro's  and  Con's  i8i 

she  was  doubtful  of  the  impression  her  father  had  left 
upon  Kaltenborn  in  the  interview  about  the  pension. 
Above  all,  if  Kaltenborn  was  at  all  familiar  with  the  history 
of  his  predecessors  in  the  Ashboro  pastorate,  and  had  any 
idea  of  following  their  precedents,  he  would  certainly 
avoid  any  social  connection  with  the  Darhngtons ;  for  it 
was  undeniable  that  the  Methodist  preachers  of  Ashboro 
and  the  railroad,  —  that  is  to  say,  the  Darlingtons,  — 
had  never  yet  succeeded  in  maintaining  perfect  amity 
between  themselves  for  any  length  of  time.  Whatever 
the  causes  of  this  hostility,  —  the  occasional  conflicts 
between  employer  and  employed,  the  natural  friction 
between  aristocracy  and  democracy,  or  a  worldliness  on 
the  part  of  the  Darlingtons  and  an  over-zealousness  on 
the  part  of  the  Methodists,  —  President  Darlington  had 
come  to  look  with  suspicion  upon  every  Methodist 
preacher  sent  to  Ashboro,  and  every  Methodist  preacher 
sent  to  Ashboro  had  come,  after  very  little  leaning  on  the 
pillars  of  his  church,  to  look  with  suspicion  upon  President 
Darlington. 

Carol  was  therefore  particularly  pleased  when  Kalten- 
born's  note  of  acceptance  arrived ;  and  when  he  himself 
arrived,  dressed  in  his  inevitable  Prince  Albert,  she 
received  him  with  perhaps  more  warmth  than  the  length 
of  their  acquaintance  or  the  occasion  made  necessary. 
Kaltenborn  was  not  the  man,  though,  to  take  advantage 
of  any  such  fortuitous  circumstance,  and  he  returned 
Carol's  greeting  with  a  dignified  graciousness  not  differ- 
ing radically  from  his  manner  on  that  day  when  Carol 
had  tried  to  freeze  him  in  Mrs.  Hicks's  parlor. 

At  the  table  he  was  much  the  same,  Carol  noted  with 
a  little  amused  admiration.  He  talked  seriously,  he 
accepted  or  refused  dishes  seriously,  he  ate  seriously. 


I  82  The  Darlingtons 


Yet  there  was  no  suggestion  of  gloom  or  asceticism  in 
his  seriousness.  He  expressed  himself  with  a  precision 
and  conscientiousness  that  were  refreshing.  If  he  agreed 
with  any  one,  that  one  was  very  sure  he  meant  it,  for  he 
disagreed  with  unconventional  freedom  and  frankness. 
If  a  subject  was  too  light  to  interest  him,  he  kept  still. 
This  peculiarity,  which  might  of  itself  have  proved  tedious 
at  a  dinner,  was  fully  offset  by  the  genuineness  of  his 
sympathy  in  all  matters  not  trifling.  With  it  all,  he 
was  not  devoid  of  humor  of  a  quiet,  subtle  kind.  He 
seldom  laughed,  and  even  his  smiles  were  not  broad ; 
but  they  lit  his  face  with  a  radiance  that  attested  their 
sincerity. 

Carol  had  feared  that  he  might  prove  a  "crank." 
But  he  did  not.  Not  once  did  he  fall  into  any  intem- 
perance of  thought  or  speech.  Nor  did  he  press  his 
opinions.  If  he  disagreed,  he  put  himself  upon  record, 
and  that  was  all.  The  conversation,  at  the  table  and 
afterward,  covered  a  wide  range  of  topics.  Mr.  Dar- 
lington talked  "  shop  "  with  his  usual  freedom  and  vivac- 
ity, but  Kaltenborn  did  not  introduce  religion. 

After  dinner,  Mr.  Darlington  got  out  his  customary 
cigar.  Ruth  gave  Carol  a  significant  glance,  and  Carol 
passed  it  on  to  her  father,  which,  according  to  the  family 
code,  might  be  interpreted  that  he  should  at  least  excuse 
himself,  and  possibly  retire  to  the  study.  Mr.  Darlington 
balanced  his  cigar  between  his  fingers  a  moment  before 
lighting  it,  in  fine  defiance  of  all  this  prudery. 

"1  don't  suppose  you  smoke,  Mr.  Kaltenborn,"  he 
began,  breezily,  —  with  an  extra  touch,  in  fact,  for  his 
daughters'  benefit.  ' '  I  suppose  you  know  that  I  do, 
and  if  it 's  not  offensive  to  you,  I  '11  light  up." 

"  It  won't  bother  me  in  the  least,"  said  Kaltenborn. 


Pro's  and  Con's  183 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  enjoy  the  smell  of  a  cigar.  There  's 
a  healthy,  antiseptic  suggestion  about  it." 

''  It  has  always  seemed  to  me,"  returned  Mr.  Darling- 
ton, svvellingly,  as  he  settled  comfortably  into  his  chair, 
and  sent  a  cloud  of  smoke  ceilingward,  "  that  preachers 
deprive  themselves  of  a  great  deal  of  innocent  pleasure 
by  abstaining  from  the  use  of  tobacco.  Why  do  they  do 
it  ?  Of  course,  I  know  why  some  of  them  do  it.  Some 
of  them  rank  tobacco  along  with  whiskey  and  opium  — 
and  dynamite.  But  why  do  the  intelligent,  hberal-minded 
ones  usually  refrain  from  using  it?  Why  do  you 
yourself?  " 

Kaltenborn  smiled  in  acknowledgment  of  his  host's 
complimentary  innuendo.  "  I  suppose  because  they 
beheve  that  one  man's  meat  is  another  man's  poison.  I 
used  to  smoke,  and  did  until  I  entered  the  ministry.  I 
don't  think  it  ever  hurt  me  any,  broadly  speaking.  Yet 
I  think  there  were  days  when  I  smoked  too  much,  and 
felt  a  little  sluggish  from  it  or  nervous.  But  I  beheve 
there  are  some  people  that  tobacco,  in  the  smallest 
quantity,  hurts.  And  if  a  preacher  smokes  publicly,  such 
people  may  be  encouraged  in  the  practice,  especially  if 
they  are  young." 

"  Why  not  smoke  privately^  then?  "  asked  Darlington, 
with  another  complacent  exhalation. 

"  Well,  the  Methodist  Church  practically  forbids  smok- 
ing by  its  ministers,  for  one  thing.  A  young  man  who 
smokes  cannot  be  admitted  to  the  ministry  now.  Aside 
from  that,  I  don't  believe  a  man  can  smoke  in  private 
without  being  detected  sooner  or  later  ;  and  if  he  could, 
I  don't  believe  he  could  do  it  without  a  loss  of  self- 
respect." 

^'  Even  though  he  sees  no  harm  in  it,  and  only  does  it 


184  The  Darlingtons 

privately  on  account  of  a  lot  of  narrow-minded  cranks?" 
asked  Darlington,  incredulously. 

"  Yes,  even  though  he  believes  all  that.  There  is 
something  hurtful  in  a  clandestine  act,  whatever  the 
motive.  And  it 's  a  question  with  me  whether  any  clan- 
destine act  is  justifiable  from  the  highest  moral  point  of 
view.  Moreover,  smoking,  I  think,  is  a  useless  and  an 
expensive  habit." 

"  How  about  coffee-drinking  ? "  said  Mr.  Darlington, 
with  the  quiet  air  of  a  man  propounding  a  poser. 

"  Undoubtedly  a  great  many  people  would  be  better 
off  without  coffee,"  answered  Kaltenborn,  laughing. 

''But  you  drink  it?" 

"  Yes,  I  do.  But  you  will  admit  yourself  that  there 
is  a  difference  between  coffee  and  tobacco." 

''Can't  see  it  —  from  our  point  of  argument,"  said 
Darlington,  obstinately. 

"  There  is  a  difference,  nevertheless,"  pursued  Kal- 
tenborn. "  It  is  not  as  expensive  a  habit,  to  begin  with, 
—  a  thing  to  be  considered  by  most  people  ;  and  while 
we  hear  of  a  '  coffee  drunkard '  now  and  then,  I  don't 
think  coffee  is  likely  to  get  the  hold  on  one  that  tobacco 
gets.  And  it  is  used  by  both  sexes,  and  is  not  so 
generally  condemned." 

"  I  can't  see  a  bit  more  sense  in  your  being  re- 
quired to  give  up  tobacco  than  coffee,"  insisted 
Darlington. 

"  He  does,  but  he  won't  admit  it,  Mr.  Kaltenborn," 
interposed  Ruth,  with  a  venturesome  laugh. 

"No,  I  don't,"  said  her  father,  positively.  "When 
you  get  right  down  to  it,  in  the  light  of  reason,  every 
objection  that  applies  to  smoking  appHes  to  drinking 
coffee." 


Pro's  and  Con's  185 

"  How  about  mince-pieS;  Mr.  Kaltenborn  ?  "  asked 
Carol,  to  divert  the  gentlemen  from  their  argument. 

"  I  plead  guilty  again,"  he  answered. 

"  Knowing  that  they  are  proverbially  indigestible !  " 
she  exclaimed,  jocosely. 

"  Knowing  that  they  are  proverbially  good,"  he  an- 
swered. Then  assuming  a  more  serious  expression,  and 
turning  to  Mr.  Darlington  again,  he  continued  :  "  This 
matter  of  smoking  or  not  smoking  is  to  be  setded  by 
every  man  individually.  If  he  sees  no  harm  in  smoking, 
moral  or  physical,  to  himself,  or  to  any  one  else  by 
force  of  example,  let  him  go  ahead  and  smoke.  If  it 's 
a  question  with  him,  I  should  advise  him,  in  order  to  be 
on  the  safe  side,  to  refrain.  There  comes  a  time  in  the 
lives  of  most  of  us  when  we  view  our  actions  in  their 
relation  to  others  as  well  as  to  ourselves.  If  you  see  a 
young  lad  slowly  paralyzing  his  energies  with  tobacco, 
planting  seeds  of  misery  for  himself  and  for  his  children 
and  his  children's  children,  you  can't  walk  up  to  him 
with  a  rich  Havana  in  your  mouth,  and  make  him  be- 
lieve that  smoking  is  wrong.  You  may  be  consistent ; 
it  may  be  that  you  did  n't  smoke  until  you  were  mature, 
and  that  you  don't  smoke  to  excess,  and  that  smoking 
in  moderation  does  n't  hurt  you.  But  that  boy  will 
never  make  those  distinctions." 

Darlington  rolled  his  cigar  comfortably  between  his 
teeth  to  offset  this  uncomfortable  doctrine.  "There 
are  some  people,  IMr.  Kaltenborn,"  he  answered,  "  who 
are  weak,  inherently  weak,  and  are  bound  to  go  to  the 
dogs  in  any  case,  no  matter  how  closely  they  are 
guarded.  I  believe  that  these  temptations  have  a  pur- 
pose. They're  a  test;  it's  a  kind  of  weeding  out  of 
the  garden  of  humanity  —  a  survival  of  the  fittest.     The 


I  86  The  Darlingtons 

people  that  survive  these  temptations  have  proved  their 
worthiness." 

The  first  example  that  came  to  Kaltenborn's  mind 
was  Darlington's  own  son.  He  knew  well  enough  that 
Darlington  did  not  put  his  theory  into  practice  by  set- 
ting a  decanter  of  whiskey  on  his  sideboard.  He  knew, 
on  the  contrary,  that  such  a  thing  had  sat  there  until 
Bert  developed  his  weakness,  and  not  a  day  after  that. 
But  of  course  he  could  say  none  of  this,  and  no  one  else 
seemed  to  be  thinking  of  it  except  possibly  Mrs.  Dar- 
lington. She  was  looking  at  Kaltenborn  with  earnest, 
thoughtful  eyes,  and  he  felt  instinctively  that  what  he 
had  said  had  met  with  her  approval. 

Carol  accompanied  Kaltenborn  to  the  door  when  he 
left.  When  they  were  alone,  she  said,  laughing,  but  half 
in  earnest,  "  I  suppose  I  have  not  reached  the  proper 
stage  yet,  but  I  don't  know  that  I  have  ever  given  up 
anything  simply  for  the  sake  of  others  —  anything 
special." 

^'Didn't  you  give  up  a  little  false  pride  once  for  Mrs. 
Burbanks's  sake  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  her  squarely  in  the 
eye.  She  flushed  ;  and  without  giving  her  time  to  an- 
swer, he  extended  his  hand  and  said  good-night. 

As  Carol  undressed  she  wondered  casually  what  Kal- 
tenborn thought  of  her  and  her  family.  She  was  very 
proud  of  her  family ;  proud  of  its  social  position,  its 
intelligence,  even  its  wealth,  because  that  represented 
industry  and  brains.  She  was  very  proud  of  herself 
for  much  the  same  reasons.  She  knew,  without  offen- 
sive vanity,  that  she  was  shrewder  than  most  women ; 
she  knew  that  she  satisfactorily  filled  a  responsible 
position.  But  she  doubted  seriously  that  Kaltenborn 
understood  and  appreciated  all  these  facts.     They  cer- 


Pro's  and  Con's  187 

tainly  had  failed  to  impress  him  much,  and  she  was 
disposed  to  feel  a  little  piqued  at  his  independence, 
for  it  was  manifestly  not  assumed.  But,  after  all,  this 
pique  was  very  foolish,  she  told  herself.  Kaltenborn 
was  only  an  eccentric  preacher,  with  but  half  an  eve, 
probably,  for  anything  outside  the  church.  He  could 
not  be  a  very  fine  preacher,  either,  for  the  Ashboro 
Methodist  Church  was  certainly  not  a  choice  appoint- 
ment.    Doubtless  the  salary  was  very  small,  too. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

KALTENBORN'S   FLOCK 

A  FEW  days  after  Kaltenborn  dined  at  the  Darling- 
tons',  a  young  woman  presented  herself  at  Carol's  desk 
bearing  a  note  from  him.  It  read  :  "  This  young  woman 
is  soliciting  money  to  transport  three  orphan  children  to 
relatives  on  the  Pacific  Coast.  If  you  will  give  her  a 
dollar  or  two,  you  will  be  lending  a  helping  hand  to  the 
helpless." 

Smiling  at  this  characteristic  note,  Carol  took  her 
purse  from  a  drawer,  and  gave  the  young  woman  two 
dollars.  "  May  I  ask  how  much  Mr.  Kaltenborn  gave  ?  " 
she  asked,  the  question  being  suggested  by  the  young 
woman's  writing  down  Carol's  name  on  a  list,  with  the 
amount  of  her  contribution  opposite. 

"  Five  dollars,"  answered  the  young  woman,  with  a 
peculiar  smile.  It  seemed  to  Carol  that  there  was 
something  unfavorable  to  her  in  that  smile,  and  she 
traced  it  to  the  difference  between  her  contribution  and 
Kaltenborn's  —  a  difference  magnified  several  times  by 
the  difference  in  their  material  prosperity.  Hiding  her 
feelings,  though,  she  immediately  made  her  contribution 
ten  dollars,  saying  lightly,  "  If  he  gave  fiv^e,  I  think 
I  can  give  ten." 

At  the  same  time  she  felt  vexed  at  Kaltenborn  for 
asking  her  for  only  a  dollar  or  two  when  he  himself  had 


Kaltenborn's  Flock  189 

given  five.  It  looked  a  little  affected,  though  it  was  not 
supposable  that  he  had  intended  she  should  know  what 
he  had  given.  The  next  time  she  met  him  she  jestingly 
accused  him  of  having  small  faith  in  her  charity. 

"  I  knew  you  would  give  whatever  sum  I  named/' 
Kaltenborn  explained.  "  Hence  I  did  n't  feel  at  hberty 
to  name  a  very  large  sum.  It  would  have  smacked  of 
extortion."     He  smiled. 

"  Why  name  any  sum  ?  "  she  asked. 

"That  would  have  been  extortion  too,"  he  answered. 
"  You  would  have  immediately  assumed  that  I  had  sent 
that  young  woman  to  you  with  a  hint  that  you  were  a 
gold  mine,  and  you  would  have  lived  up  to  that  assump- 
tion, whether  you  wanted  to  or  not,  —  being  a  young 
woman  of  considerable  pride,  —  and  would  probably 
have  given  her  a  ten-dollar  note." 

"That's  just  what  I  did  give  her,"  she  answered, 
triumphantly. 

"I  'm  sorry,"  said  he,  briefly. 

She  looked  at  him  with  surprise  tinged  with  vexation. 
"  Why  should  you  be  ? "  she  asked.  "  You  are  not 
treating  me  fairly,"  she  complained,  forcing  a  playfulness. 
"  If  you  had  had  faith  in  me  and  my  charity,  you  would 
have  known  that  I  should  be  as  glad  to  give  as  you 
were." 

"  I  believe  you  would  lend  your  pocketbook  to  a  case 
of  suffering  as  quickly  as  any  one  I  know  of.  But 
people's  ideas  of  what  constitutes  a  case  of  suffering 
differ." 

"  In  other  words,  I  am  too  case-hardened  to  see  any- 
thing pathetic  in  three  little  children  left  orphans, 
twenty-five  hundred  miles  from  their  nearest  relative,'^ 
she  said,  sarcastically.     "  Really,  Mr.  Kaltenborn  !  " 


I  go  The  Darlingtons 

"  Is  n't  that  a  little  strong  ?  "  he  asked,  pleasantly. 

*'  Is  n't  it  true  ?  "  she  retorted. 

"  One  might  see  a  great  deal  of  pathos  in  such  a  case, 
and  yet  not  feel  called  upon  to  give  very  liberally.  You 
might  have  regarded  it  as  a  case  for  some  of  the  organ- 
ized charities  to  which  you  doubtless  subscribe,  or  for 
the  county.  But  what 's  the  use  of  arguing,  when  I  am 
prepared  to  put  your  charity  to  a  test,  right  now  !  "  He 
smiled  significantly. 

"  Go  ahead  !  "  she  said,  defiantly.  "  I  'm  worked  up 
now  to  where  I  'd  give  away  the  half  of  my  kingdom." 

"There  is  to  be  an  entertainment  at  our  church  a 
week  from  to-night,  for  the  benefit  of  superannuated 
preachers.  They  constitute  our  Grand  Army,  you 
know,  —  the  boys  who  went  to  the  front  in  pioneer  days, 
—  and  we  Ve  got  to  take  care  of  them  now.  There 
will  be  singing  and  speaking  and  instrumental  music,  all 
by  members  of  our  church  or  Sunday-school.  I  feel 
that  if  I  could  get  an  outsider  to  take  part,  it  would 
materially  increase  the  receipts,  —  especially  such  an 
outsider  as  you,  if  you  will  allow  me  to  say  it.  I  under- 
stand that  you  have  quite  a  reputation  as  an  elocutionist. 
Will  you  help  us  out  ?  " 

Carol  dropped  her  eyes,  and  described  the  segment 
of  a  circle  with  her  toe.  They  were  standing  upon  the 
steps  of  the  railroad  building. 

"  That  is  a  test,  Mr.  Kaltenborn,"  she  answered, 
frankly,  lifting  her  head  and  photographing  him  with  her 
full  blue  eye.  "  I  used  to  read  a  good  deal,  it 's  true, 
but  for  a  year  I  have  refused  every  request.  It  got  to 
be  too  much  of  a  draft  upon  my  time.  There  was 
nothing  in  the  way  of  entertainments,  especially  by  the 
churches,  that  I  was  not  asked  to  take  part  in.     You 


Kaltenborn's  Flock  191 

have  no  idea  how  conscienceless  people  are  about  those 
things."  He  said  nothing  as  she  paused,  and  she  con- 
tinued :  "  I  don't  know  what  to  say.  I  wish  you  had 
asked  anything  else.  I  would  sooner  give  you  in  cash 
ten  times  the  amount  my  presence  will  add  to  your 
receipts."     She  looked  at  him  suggestively. 

"I  can't  take  it,"  he  said,  shortly. 

"Why  not,  if  I  prefer  to  give  it?" 

"  If  the  work  is  as  repugnant  to  you  as  that,  I  don't 
want  you  to  do  it,  or  do  anything  in  Heu  of  it." 

"It's  just  that  repugnant;"  said  Carol,  in  a  matter-of- 
fact  tone. 

"Then  you  don't  want  to  do  it?" 

"  I  certainly  don't  want  to,"  she  returned,  with  a 
puzzled  laugh. 

"Then  you  won't?" 

"No,  I  will,"  she  answered  emphatically.  "Princi- 
pally for  the  reason  that  I  don't  want  to,  I  suppose," 
she  added,  to  cut  off  any  compliments.  "  Have  you 
any  choice  in  the  way  of  a  selection  ?  "  she  asked,  almost 
brusquely. 

"  None,"  he  answered.  "  Anything  suitable  for  a 
mixed  audience  of  a  religious  character,"  he  added,  but 
whether  as  an  explanation  or  a  fling  at  her  brusqueness 
she  was  not  sure. 

Carol  wanted  very  much  to  say  something  rude, 
especially  if  it  could  be  also  something  witty ;  but  she 
curbed  her  lawless  spirit,  and  bade  him  good-afternoon 
in  a  very  civil  tone.  What  Kaltenborn  thought  of  the 
affair  was  not  apparent ;  but  as  she  walked  away,  with 
possibly  an  augmented  dignity,  a  smile  so  shrewd  and 
knowing  came  over  his  face  that  one  would  never  have 
charged  him  with  blundering. 


192  The  Darlingtons 

Kaltenborn  met  Miss  Darlington  at  the  horse-block 
in  front  of  the  church  on  the  night  of  the  entertainment, 
and  helped  her  down  from  the  landau,  which  had  been 
driven  over  by  Tom,  the  hostler.  She  wore  a  long 
riding- coat  which  fell  to  her  heels  and  hid  the  white 
gown  beneath,  except  in  front,  where  the  coat  flared 
open.  The  garment,  with  its  great  pearl  buttons  — 
larger  than  doll-saucers  —  undoubtedly  set  Carol's  tall 
figure  off  to  advantage.  Kaltenborn  was  not  insensible 
to  this;  but  if  he  had  been,  the  eyes  of  the  bystanders, 
as  he  led  Miss  Darlington  in,  would  have  apprised  him 
of  it.     The  women  especially  stared  at  her. 

When  Carol  emerged  from  the  improvised  dressing- 
room  downstairs,  Kaltenborn  was  again  within  hailing 
distance.  Her  cheeks  were  a  delicious,  soft,  downy 
red  —  from  the  ride,  Kaltenborn  supposed ;  her  eyes 
were  crystalline  with  high  spirits  and  amiability,  and  she 
gave  Kaltenborn  her  hand  with  an  unmistakable  mani- 
festation of  good-will  and  fellow-feeling. 

Kaltenborn  led  her  upstairs  to  a  seat  in  one  of  the 
"amen"  corners,  which  had  been  set  aside  for  the  per- 
formers. From  here  she  had  a  good  view  of  the 
audience.  About  a  third,  or  more,  she  fancied,  were 
children.  The  adults  were  for  the  most  part  plain  work- 
ing-people, some  of  whom  she  recognized  as  employes 
of  the  road.  They  had  a  freshly  washed  and  brushed 
and  dressed  appearance,  and  sat  primly  upright  in  their 
seats,  and  whispered  little,  as  though  at  a  devotional 
service.  The  men  were  a  serious,  manly  looking  lot ; 
the  women  generally  looked  thin  and  nervous  and 
sallow  and  overworked,  and  there  were  not  many  pretty 
faces  among  even  the  younger  ones.  Among  them  sat 
Lizzie  Carson  and  her  mother. 


Kaltenborn's  Flock  193 

In  the  centre  of  the  room  she  saw,  somewhat  to  her 
surprise,  a  bevy  of  her  girl  friends.  Their  presence 
vaguely  displeased  her.  Decorous  as  they  were,  they 
were  plainly  out  for  a  lark ;  they  expected  to  be  amused, 
and  were  on  the  lookout  for  novelties.  They  scrutinized 
every  new-comer,  not  boldly  or  impolitely,  but  with  a 
zest  that  was  unmistakable.  As  a  result  the  group  was 
somewhat  conspicuous  for  its  whispering  and  craning  of 
necks ;  and  the  people  in  front  of  them  and  on  either 
side  looked  self-conscious  and  uncomfortable,  and  a 
little  hostile.  Carol  saw  some  of  the  girls  trying  to  catch 
her  eye.  She  refused  to  see  them,  but  she  felt  that  she 
was  being  identified  with  them  by  more  than  one.  She 
probably  was. 

The  programme,  up  to  Carol's  number  —  she  was 
reserved,  it  seemed,  as  a  ^our  de  force  —  was  worse 
than  mediocre.  The  numbers  were  announced,  in  the 
absence  of  a  printed  programme,  by  a  young  woman  in 
spectacles,  who  seemed  to  have  considerable  difficulty 
in  seeing  even  with  this  artificial  aid ;  for  she  stumbled 
over  the  names  of  those  taking  part,  and  most  wofully 
mangled  with  her  tongue  the  foreign  composers  and  the 
titles  of  their  compositions. 

There  were  not  many  of  the  latter,  however.  Most 
of  the  music  was  democratically  American,  and  was 
applauded  with  democratic  indiscrimination.  One  song, 
of  eight  or  nine  eight-line  stanzas,  which,  as  music,  was 
beneath  contempt,  and  which  set  forth  a  most  harrowing 
tale  of  broken  faith,  was  received  with  vociferous  mani- 
festations of  pleasure ;  and  the  young  miss  who  sang  it 
walked  demurely  back  to  the  platform  again,  and  sang 
the  whole  lugubrious  epic  through  once  more,  to  the 
whining  accompaniment  of  a  cabinet-organ. 

13 


1 94  The  Darlingtons 

A  little  bullet-headed  boy,  who  came  up,  bobbed  his 
head,  galloped  through  a  comic  quatrain,  bobbed  his 
head  again,  and  disappeared,  also  elicited  a  roar  of 
applause.  He  was  funny,  though,  and  Carol  herself 
laughed.  A  chorus  of  Sunday-school  tots,  with  their 
dolls  in  their  arms,  were  also  pleasing.  Their  crimped 
and  ribboned  hair,  their  spick-and-span  white  dresses, 
with  their  ruffles  and  frills  and  embroideries,  their 
new  creaking  shoes,  all  hinted  of  parental  pride  and 
prosperit}\ 

But,  for  the  most  part,  the  progi-amme  was  dreary 
enough  to  Carol.  Embarrassed,  awkward  girls,  too  old 
to  be  innocent,  too  young  to  be  artful,  ground  their  way 
through  prosy  lengths  of  verse.  Other  young  girls 
played  simple  compositions  on  the  organ,  or  sang  stir- 
ring ballads  in  a  most  unstirring  manner.  A  few  half- 
grown  boys,  some  looking  sheepish,  others  impish,  lent 
their  assistance.  Some  of  these  went  through  their 
"  pieces  "  without  a  break  ;  some  had  to  be  prompted. 
Others,  who  forgot  and  had  no  prompters,  floundered 
around  a  while,  and  either  went  back  a  few  lines  and 
thus  gained  enough  momentum  to  carry  them  over 
the  rough  spot,  or  collapsed  entirely. 

If  Carol  had  had  any  doubts  about  being  reserved  as 
a  tour  de  force,  they  were  certainly  expelled  when  she 
mounted  the  platform,  ^^.n  expectant  rustle  passed 
over  the  crowded  house  ;  and  the  hush  which  followed 
as  she  held  her  tall,  commanding  figure  in  poise  for  a 
moment  before  beginning,  was  more  flattering  than  the 
loudest  applause. 

She  had  intended  to  read  a  selection  from  "  Evange- 
line ; "  but  after  looking  over  her  audience,  and  hsten- 
ing  to  the  other  recitations,  and  noting  the  applause 


Kaltenborn's  Flock  195 

they  elicited,  she  had  changed  her  mind  and  substituted 
"  A  New  Lochinvar."  Just  before  she  opened  her  hps 
to  begin,  however,  she  caught  sight  of  Kaltenborn.  He 
was  leaning  easily  back,  with  his  arm  over  the  seat,  his 
steady  gray-blue  eyes  fixed  upon  her  with  intelligent 
expectation.  He  looked  less  austere  than  usual,  in  the 
church  though  he  was,  —  more  like  a  man  who  had 
tasted  and  enjoyed  the  good  things  of  the  world.  And 
Carol  fancied,  in  the  second  allowed  her  for  fancy,  that 
perhaps  her  compliance  in  reading  for  him  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  that  softened  expression. 

In  that  same  second  her  substitution  of  Carleton's 
jingling  lines  for  "  Evangeline "  seemed  like  an  un- 
worthy, almost  cowardly,  pandering  to  popularity,  and 
like  treachery  to  herself,  her  art,  and  —  Kaltenborn. 
Therefore  she  began  abruptly  the  story  of  the  Acadian 
maid,  and  told  it  with  a  grace,  fervor,  and  power  that 
perhaps  she  had  never  commanded  before. 

She  did  not  care  much  for  the  burst  of  applause  which 
followed,  and  which  continued  until  she  had  responded 
with  a  short  encore,  though  it  seemed  to  justify  a  remark 
Kaltenborn  had  once  made  to  her,  —  that  no  matter  how 
common  a  man  is,  he  enjoys  something  uncommon. 
But  she  would  have  given  a  good  deal  to  know  if  Kal- 
tenborn himself  appreciated  the  art  in  her  work,  or  had 
an  adequate  conception  of  the  weary  days  and  weeks 
she  had  spent  in  acquiring  that  art.  He  came  up  after 
the  entertainment,  and  gave  her  his  hand  in  congratula- 
tion, and  said,  with  sincere  pleasure  in  his  voice,  "  It 
came  up  to  my  expectations ;  and  I  expected  much." 

'^I  don't  know  why  you  should,  though,"  she  re- 
turned, archly  evading  his  compliment,  but  at  the  same 
time  compensating  him  with  that  confiding  glance  which 


196  The  Darlingtons 

women  bestow  only  upon  those  men  whom  they  have 
learned  to  trust. 

"  Because  I  have  learned  that  whatever  you  do,  you 
do  well/'  he  answered.  She  allowed  her  pleasure  to 
shine  softly  from  her  eyes. 

A  luncheon,  with  coffee,  was  to  be  served  in  the 
church  parlors  in  the  basement  below,  by  one  of  the 
Sunday-school  classes,  in  honor  of  the  performers  and 
their  friends  and  families.  Kaltenborn  insisted  on 
Carol's  remaining.  He  seemed  to  have  so  set  his 
heart  on  it  that  she  consented,  reluctantly,  and  went 
downstairs  with  a  good  deal  of  curiosity  and  not  a  little 
perturbation.  She  had  not  forgotten  her  excoriation  by 
a  former  pastor  of  these  same  people  for  carrying  a 
party  of  young  people  to  the  opera  at  High  Point. 

She  fancied,  after  she  got  downstairs,  that  the  people 
had  not  forgotten  it  either.  They  seemed  to  treat  her 
stiffly ;  they  talked  htde,  and  she  found  herself  com- 
pelled to  take  the  initiative  every  time.  As  Kalten- 
born introduced  them  to  her,  they  shook  hands,  or 
bowed,  and  then  fell  back,  sometimes  after  exchang- 
ing a  few  words,  sometimes  without.  Some  of  them 
Carol  already  knew ;  some  of  them  she  felt  almost  as 
though  she  knew  —  she  had  seen  them  so  often,  in  the 
street  and  elsewhere,  or  had  heard  their  names  men- 
tioned so  often.  There  were  two  young  women,  also, 
whom  she  had  met  once  at  some  gathering.  But  there 
was  not  one  there  whom  she  was  in  the  habit  of  meet- 
ing socially,  and  the  great  majority  were  strangers, 
though  their  faces  and  names  were  more  or  less  familiar. 
Hence  Carol  felt  out  of  place.  She  felt  as  though  she 
was  being  stared  at  and  privately  discussed.  She 
caught  more  than  one  eye  fixed  on  her  gown  —  which 


Kaltenborn's  Flock  197 

was  cut  low  in  the  neck  —  and  a  great  many  persons 
seemed  to  be  interested  in  the  dressing  of  her  hair. 
The  children  stared  at  her  openly  and  shamelessly. 

As  she  sat  at  table  next  to  Kaltenborn,  she  tried  to 
appear  oblivious  of  all  this  attention  and  to  keep  up  a 
connected  conversation.  But  the  attempt  was  a  flat 
failure.  The  inhospitable  air  chilled  her,  and  before 
the  luncheon  was  over  she  had  grown  silent  and  self- 
conscious. 

The  truth  is,  Carol  Darlington,  with  all  her  force  of 
character  and  all  her  independence  among  her  asso- 
ciates and  all  her  impatience  of  convention,  was  ex- 
quisitely sensitive  to  the  opinion  of  the  ''other  half." 
To  use  her  own  words,  she  was  '^afraid  of  the  poor." 
She  was  afraid  of  being  thought  priggish,  afraid  that 
they  resented  her  superior  birth  and  social  position, 
and  yet  afraid  that  they  would  resent  any  attempt  to 
conceal  such  superiority.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  most  of 
what  she  thought  stiffness  in  Kaltenborn's  parishioners 
was  merely  deference,  awkwardly  paid.  Or,  at  the 
worst,  it  was  thought  only  to  be  fine  manners.  Their 
very  silence  was  a  tribute  to  her  superiority ;  and  their 
coming  up,  shaking  hands,  and  falling  back,  in  a  per- 
fectly cold-blooded  way,  was  exactly  the  treatment  they 
would  have  given  a  queen. 

Kaltenborn  talked  serenely  on,  apparently  not  notic- 
ing her  distraitness,  and  eating  quite  heartily,  Carol 
noticed.  When  the  people  began  to  go,  he  walked  to 
the  door  with  Carol.  For  some  reason  the  landau  had 
failed  to  return.  Kaltenborn  offered  to  send  for  it,  or 
to  get  her  another  conveyance  ;  but  she  said  that  she 
would  just  as  soon  walk,  if  he  would  be  good  enough  to 
go  with  her. 


198  The  Darlingtons 

As  soon  as  they  were  alone,  Kaltenborn's  conversa- 
tional mood  seemed  to  desert  him  ;  and  Carol  could 
not,  for  the  Hfe  of  her,  think  of  anything  to  say  that 
would  not  sound  forced.  They  therefore  walked  along 
in  silence.  At  her  door  he  shook  hands  with  her,  and 
thanked  her  for  her  assistance.  Still  he  lingered  before 
saying  good-night ;  and  when  the  fact  of  lingering  could 
no  longer  be  concealed,  he  said,  in  a  tone  not  so  care- 
less as  he  aimed  to  make  it,  — 

"  You  have  seen  my  people,  talked  with  them,  and 
broken  bread  with  them.  What  do  you  think  of 
them  ?  '^ 

*^I  didn't  talk  much,"  she  answered,  with  a  little 
evasive  laugh,  at  the  same  time  giving  him  a  half- 
regretful  glance. 

"Well,  you  saw  them,"  he  insisted.  "What  do  you 
think  of  them  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Kaltenborn,"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  catching 
of  her  breath,  "  I  dare  not  fell  you." 

Kaltenborn  looked  at  her  without  surprise,  but  said 
quietly,  "  I  can't  imagine  what  you  dare  think  that  you 
dare  not  tell." 

"  I  don't  suppose  I  ought  even  to  think  it,"  she  said, 
apologetically. 

Another  pause  followed,  in  which  Kaltenborn  looked 
persistently  away  from  her. 

"  You  pity  me,"  he  said,  abruptly. 

"Why  should  I  pity  you,  Mr.  Kaltenborn?"  she 
asked,  with  a  slight  start  at  the  closeness  of  his  shot. 

"You  should  not,"  he  returned,  brusquely. 

"  I  have  not  intimated  that  I  do,"  she  said,  gently. 

"  You  have  not  said  it,"  he  answered,  "  but  you  have 
looked  it  and  acted  it." 


Kaltenborn's  Flock  199 

"  This  is  not  justice,  Mr.  Kaltenborn,"  she  said,  with 
some  reserve.  *'  You  have  no  right  to  condemn  me  on 
any  such  intangible  evidence  as  that." 

"I  am  not  condemning  you,"  he  answered,  getting 
better  control  of  himself,  and  speaking  more  evenly. 
"  I  speak  for  the  very  reason  that  it  would  not  be  just 
for  me  to  conceal  what  I  have  seen  so  plainly." 

"  Suppose  I  were  to  tell  you,  in  so  many  words,  that 
I  do  not  pity  you  ? " 

"  You  will  not  tell  me  so,"  he  said,  decisively. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  pity  you,"  she  began,  frankly. 
"  I  don't  know  that  I  do.  But  I  must  tell  you,  in 
honesty,  and  at  the  risk  of  wounding  your  pride,  that 
if  I  were  compelled  to  labor  with  such  people,  all  my 
life,  to  mingle  with  them  socially,  to  listen  to  their 
grievances,  and  to  —  to  make  myself  popular  with 
them,  I  should  be  the  most  miserable  creature  on  the 
face  of  the  earth.  I  don't  think  you  are,"  she  added, 
quickly.  "  And  that  shows  that  you  are  a  great  deal 
stronger  than  I  am.  But  they  are  so  cold,  so  narrow, 
so  circumscribed  in  thought  and  ambition,"  she  con- 
tinued, plaintively,  —  "  so  ignorant,  if  I  must  say  it,  of 
all  the  finer  and  higher  things  of  life."  She  looked  at 
him  with  large,  compassionate  eyes,  as  though  pleading 
her  earnestness  in  extenuation  of  her  bluntness. 

^^  Suppose  your  lot  were  to  be  cast  among  them  by 
choice  ?"  he  asked,  half  sadly,  she  thought. 

"  I  can't  conceive  of  it,"  she  answered,  positively ; 
"  —  for  meP 

*'  Can  you  conceive  of  your  lot  falling  by  choice 
among  the  heathen,  as  a  missionary  ? "  he  asked,  and 
she  fancied  his  tone  half  contemptuous. 

''  Hardly.' 


>j 


200  The  Darlingtons 

"  Can  you  conceive  of  yourself  as  a  nurse  in  a  colony 
of  lepers,  destined  never  to  see  home  or  friends  again, 
and  to  die  a  lingering,  repulsive  death  ?  "  She  did  not 
answer,  and  he  went  sternly  on  :  ^^Can  you  conceive  of 
your  lot  falling  anywhere,  by  choice,  where  you  would 
have  to  give  up  the  pleasures  and  luxuries  of  life,  or 
even  its  comforts,  in  order  that  the  condition  of  your 
fellow-men  might  be  improved  ?  " 

Again  she  did  not  speak,  or  look  up,  and  he  saw  that 
she  was  hurt.  He  softened  his  voice,  and  continued  : 
*''  My  lot  is  not  as  hard  as  any  of  these.  Do  you  not 
think  so  ? " 

"  I  suppose  it  is  n't,"  she  admitted,  drawing  her  coat 
more  tightly  about  her.  "  But  could  n't  some  one  else 
do  the  work  as  well  —  or  even  better  than  you  ?  You 
are  so  different  from  these  people.  You  have  ideals 
and  aspirations  that  they  never  dream  of.  Are  you  not 
doing  just  what  you  warned  me  against  the  other  day 
when  you  told  about  that  Arabian  mare  of  your  father's 
on  the  stone-wagon  ?  You  are  fretting  and  chafing  — 
you  must  do  it,  under  your  hmitations  here  —  when 
another  man,  a  man  like  Mr.  Collins,  your  predecessor, 
who  knows  nothing  better,  would  fall  in  with  them 
naturally,  without  a  thought  of  adjusting  himself.'"' 

"  If  he  is  no  better  than  they,  how  much  could  he 
uplift  them?"  he  asked.  His  expression  grew  tender 
as  he  looked  into  her  beautiful,  thoughtful  face ;  his 
eyes  kindled  as  hei  watched  her  bite  her  lip ;  and  the 
thought  that  behind  those  exquisite  lineaments  lay  a 
soul  that  had  confessed  its  unfitness  for  martyrdom 
gave  his  heart  a  wrench.  "  No,"  he  continued,  tearing 
his  glance  from  her,  "  the  blind  must  not  lead  the  blind. 
And   you   must  not  pity  m.e  —  if  you  do.     You  must 


Kaltenborn's  Flock  201 

not  make  a  saint  out  of  me.  That  does  me  too  much 
honor.  My  present  life  is  of  my  choosing.  I  am  thirty- 
five  years  old,  and  I  have  been  in  the  ministry  only  a 
few  years.  The  other  years  of  my  life  were  also  spent 
as  I  chose  to  spend  them  —  much  as  most  men  spend 
theirs,  with  perhaps  certain  advantages  in  my  favor.  I 
was  not  happy,  though.  My  discontent  drove  me  to  a 
change,  and  I  am  happier  now  than  I  was  then." 

"  How  happy  is  that } "  she  asked,  with  a  sweet, 
sympathetic  smile. 

"  I  have  the  happiness  that  comes  from  duty  done," 
he  answered.  "  It  is  not  a  leaping,  shouting  happiness 
—  in  my  case,  at  least.  My  temperament  forbids  that, 
I  suppose.  I  take  life  seriously,  —  too  seriously,  I 
sometimes  think.  But  I  feel.  Miss  DarHngton,  every 
day  and  every  hour,  that  I  am  working  shoulder  to 
shoulder  with  God  toward  the  completion  of  his  great 
world-plan."  He  paused,  not  as  having  finished,  but 
as  being  overwhelmed  with  the  vastness  of  his  theme. 

Carol  listened  with  half-awed  eyes  to  this  announce- 
ment of  co-partnership  with  God.  "  And  don't  you 
ever  have  your  doubts  and  discouragements?"  she 
asked,  admiringly. 

"Too  many  times,"  he  answered.  "That  seems  to 
be  a  part  of  our  finiteness.  Weakness  is  the  name  for 
it.  But  when  the  sun  seems  to  have  set  and  darkness 
is  on,  the  change  is  in  me,  I  know,  not  in  the  world. 
That  is  always  the  same,  widely  speaking.  We  speak 
of  the  scowls  and  the  smiles  of  the  world,  but  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  face  of  the  world  is  serene.  The  scowls  and 
smiles  are  our  own.'' 

"  But  you  don't  believe,  do  you,  that  one  has  to  be 
a  minister  in  order  to  be  working  for  God  ?  "  she  asked ; 


202  The  Darlingtons 

and  the  plaintive  solemnity  of  her  tones  was  sweet 
music  in  his  ears. 

"  No,  no,"  he  said.  *'  But  /  have  to  be.  People 
have  to  be  fed  and  clothed  and  educated  —  and  hauled 
on  railroad  trains,"  he  added,  smiling,  "  and  it 's  all  as 
necessary,  as  divine,  as  caring  for  their  souls.  Yet  I 
will  confess  that  it  seems  to  me  that  the  minister's  work 
is  the  highest.  It  certainly  is  the  last.  He  finishes  the 
product,  as  it  were,  and  turns  it  over  to  the  Master- 
workman  for  approval." 

"  It  does  seem  higher,"  she  said,  reflectively. 

"  I  wish  I  could  make  you  understand  just  how  I  feel 
toward  these  people  in  my  church,"  he  began,  enthusi- 
astically, as  if  encouraged  by  her  last  remark.  "  I  am 
not  laboring  to  save  them  for  heaven.  I  want  to  make 
them  fit  to  live.  I  want  to  help  them  out  of  that  nar- 
rowness which  chills  you.  I  want  to  remove  those 
prejudices  with  which  you  are  impatient.  I  want  to 
lift  them  up,  and  give  them  the  outlook  in  life  that  you 
have.  They  have  not  had  the  chance  you  have  had ; 
they  have  not  come  into  their  inheritance.  As  long  as 
one  man  in  this  world  is  better  than  another,  that  other 
has  not  got  his  dues." 

"  Education  will  give  them  to  him  in  time,  I  sup- 
pose," she  suggested. 

"  I  am  only  an  educator.  But  the  education  you 
refer  to,  at  least  the  higher  part  of  it,  is  denied  so  many 
as  yet.  We  must  work  to  make  good  that  deficiency  — 
you  and  I,"  he  added,  impulsively,  "  and  the  rest  who 
have  been  more  fortunate  than  their  brothers.  There  is 
a  grandeur  about  the  work,  once  you  give  yourself  over 
to  it,  that  you  must  feel  to  know,"  he  continued,  with 
glowing   eyes.     "  It 's   as  though   you  stood  with  one 


Kaltenborn's  Flock  203 

hand  in  God's,  and  the  other  in  man's."  He  paused 
as  if  he  feared  his  enthusiasm  might  be  carrying  him 
too  far,  and  then  said,  in  an  altered  voice,  "  Good-night ! 
If  I  want  you  for  another  entertainment  at  our  church, 
I  suppose  I  can  have  you,"  he  added,  shrewdly. 

"  If  you  had  asked  me  that  half  an  hour  ago,  I  should 
have  said  no,"  she  answered,  while  he  retained  her  hand 
momentarily.  "  And  if  you  should  ask  me  to-morrow 
morning,  I  might  say  no.  My  good  moods  are  so 
terribly  ephemeral." 

"  But  you  would  say  yes  now  ?" 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  simply,  and  she  fancied  that 
with  those  great,  deep,  earnest,  passionate  eyes  upon 
her,  she  would  have  said  yes  to  almost  anything.  "  I 
wish  you  would  come  and  see  me,  sometime,  Mr. 
Kaltenborn,"  she  added. 

He  may  have  taken  the  invitation  for  an  after-thought, 
or  a  mere  courtesy ;  but  she  had  been  pondering  the 
matter  for  several  minutes. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

ANCESTRAL  AND   OTHER   SECRETS 

Whatever  he  may  have  thought  of  the  sincerity  of  her 
invitation,  Kaltenborn  called  on  Miss  Darhngton  two 
weeks  later.  Her  independence  of  thought  and  speech 
were  very  pleasing  to  his  own  independent  nature ;  and 
her  self-confidence  and  hardihood,  tinctured  with  her 
father's  worldhness.  in  a  form  softened  by  her  age 
and  sex,  were  refreshing  to  his  vigorous  and  original 
mind. 

But  fully  as  gratifying  to  him  as  anything  else  about 
Carol  —  possibly  more  gratifying,  had  he  been  perfectly 
candid  with  himself  —  was  a  delicate,  fleeting  deference 
which  she  paid  to  his  opinions,  no  matter  how  stoutly 
she  contested  them  openly.  So  subtle  was  this  homage 
—  an  indefinable  lighting  of  her  eye,  a  peculiar  move- 
ment of  her  brows,  a  tense,  listening  attitude,  a  kind  of 
suspension,  as  it  were,  of  all  her  senses  save  that  of 
hearing  —  that  she  seemed  unconscious  of  it  herself. 
It  was  certainly  too  intangible  to  be  either  openly 
accepted  or  rejected  by  Kaltenborn.  Yet  he  wondered 
at  times  if  it  was  not  an  amiable  little  trick,  a  sop 
thrown  to  his  vanity. 

As  often  as  this  suspicion  recurred  to  him,  he  dis- 
missed it  as  unworthy  of  himself  and  unjust  to  her. 
Why  should  she  cater  to  his  vanitv^  whether  she  thought 


Ancestral  and  Other  Secrets      205 

ill  or  well  of  him  ?  And  why,  in  truth,  should  she  not 
show  him  a  little  deference  ?  He  had  seen  the  world, 
he  had  read  deeply  in  both  men  and  books ;  and  he 
was  doing  a  work  here  in  Ashboro  that  not  every  man 
could  or  would  do. 

He  knew  whence  his  sensitiveness  in  this  matter 
came.  It  sprang  from  his  perfect  realization  of  the 
difference  between  her  social  position  and  his,  the 
difference  between  their  ideas  of  life,  their  hopes  and 
ambitions.  He  knew  that  she  had  no  real  advantage 
over  him  in  these  things,  but  did  she  know  it  ? 

There  was  one  other  reason  for  his  hesitating  to  call 
on  her.  Repugnant  as  the  thought  was,  and  squirm 
under  it  as  he  might,  he  knew  there  were  people  in  his 
church  who  would  not  countenance  any  intimacy  be- 
tween their  pastor  and  Carol  Darlington.  Her  race- 
horse, her  opera-going,  her  dancing,  her  card-playing, 
even  her  private-car  parties,  and  very  possibly  her 
acting  as  auditor  of  the  H.  P.,  R.,  A.,  and  S.  — which 
some  people  thought  mannish  —  were  things  which 
some  of  Kaltenborn's  members  could  not  overlook,  or 
allow  their  pastor  to  overlook.  He  could  easily  under- 
stand this  aversion  on  the  part  of  his  people,  charming 
young  woman  though  Carol  was ;  he  could  even  see 
that  it  was  inevitable.  But  this  did  not  make  the 
bonds  put  upon  him  chafe  any  less. 

Carol  led  Kaltenborn  into  the  music-room,  —  a  cozy 
place  with  its  grate  fire,  and  her  favorite  quarters. 
She  introduced  a  young  man  sitting  on  the  piano-stool 
as  Mr.  Winter,  and  then  drew  up  another  chair  to  the 
fire.  While  her  back  was  thus  turned,  a  shadowy 
smile,  a  mixture  of  amusement  and  apprehension, 
flickered  over  her  face. 


2o6  The  Darlingtons 


Her  apprehension  was  not  unreasonable.  Winter 
was  suave,  graceful,  smooth-tongued,  discreet,  and 
politic,  though  withal  courageous  and  honest.  Kalten- 
born  was  blunt,  out-spoken,  conscientious  to  eccentric- 
ity, and  full  of  unconventional  notions.  Winter  was  the 
proprietor  of  Ashboro  Inn,  and  as  such  the  owner  of  a 
bar.  Kaltenborn  was  a  preacher,  and  as  such  a  public 
enemy  of  drink.  It  might  very  easily  prove  difficult  to 
keep  two  such  men  on  neutral  ground. 

Another  thing  embarrassed  Carol  a  little,  though  she 
had  a  foolish  desire  to  laugh  at  it,  too.  A  custom  of 
allowing  certain  favorites  to  smoke  when  they  came  in 
of  an  evening  had  grown  up  in  the  Darlington  house- 
hold. Both  Mr.  Darlington  and  Bert  smoked  from 
cellar  to  garret,  and  they  had  a  sociable  habit  of 
dropping  in  on  Carol's  intimate  men  friends  with  cigars 
in  their  mouths.  If  the  visitor  happened  to  smoke,  — 
and  most  of  Carol's  intimates  did,  —  a  cigar  was  invari- 
ably pressed  upon  him.  In  the  course  of  time,  these 
few  young  men  got  to  bringing  their  own  cigars,  and  to 
lighting  them  without  the  sanction  of  Mr.  Darlington's 
or  Bert's  presence.  Carol  had  resolved  several  times  to 
prohibit  this  custom  —  she  knew  it  was  talked  about ; 
but  as  she  did  not  take  the  matter  to  heart,  the  prohibi- 
tion never  came. 

Mr.  Winter  was  one  of  these  privileged  favorites,  and 
at  this  moment  a  half-consumed  cigar  was  sending  up 
a  tiny  blue  spiral  of  smoke  from  an  ash-tray  on  the 
table,  v.-here  Winter  had  discreetly  deposited  it  upon 
Kaltenborn's  entrance.  However,  there  was  nothing 
to  say ;  at  least,  nothing  that  Carol  cared  to  say.  If 
Kaltenborn  saw  anything  incongruous  in  a  music-room 
full  of  smoke,  he  did  not  betray  his  perception  by  so 


Ancestral  and  Other  Secrets      207 

much  as  the  movement  of  an  ej^elid.  This  tactfulness 
was  something  that  Carol  could  admire,  and  she  sank 
gracefully  down  into  her  chair,  and  folded  her  hands 
before  her. 

The  men  got  along  smoothly.  Cash  had  never  ap- 
peared to  better  advantage,  Carol  thought,  and  she 
resolved  to  tell  him  later  that  seriousness  was  a  very 
becoming  role  for  him.  She  saw,  though,  that  he  was 
taking  his  cue  from  Kaltenborn,  and  his  imitation  bore 
to  Kaltenborn's  virility  about  the  relation  that  a  painter's 
canvas  bears  to  a  landscape,  —  all  unsightly  objects  left 
out,  glaring  colors  subdued,  extremes  of  light  and 
shadow  tempered.  In  short,  Winter  was  just  what  he 
always  was,  though  now  out  of  his  beaten  track,  —  a 
gentleman,  careful  of  the  feelings  of  others,  with  a  dis- 
taste for  extremes,  and  no  appetite  for  an  argument. 

Kaltenborn,  on  the  other  hand,  was  rugged  and 
leonine.  His  landscape,  though  full  of  majestic  moun- 
tains, was  not  without  yawning  abysses.  There  were 
grassy  valleys,  but  also  bleak  summits,  and  through 
the  verdure  of  the  slopes,  the  granite  thrust  its  hard 
face. 

Carol  was  afraid  of  him  —  she  admitted  it  freely  to 
herself.  Here  in  her  presence,  he  was  bitted  and 
reined,  as  it  were.  But  when  he  was  free  !  When 
he  took  to  his  bosom  the  woman  of  his  choice,  if  he 
ever  should,  and  poured  forth  without  reserve  his 
inmost  thoughts !  Within  him  was  a  volcanic  force 
that  no  woman  could  control,  she  fancied,  and  this 
same  force  would  either  lift  some  woman  into  the  clear 
light  above  the  clouds,  or  dash  her  pitilessly  to  earth. 
She  saw  in  him,  she  believed,  a  constancy  that  knew 
no  change,  but  also  an  iron  will,  —  a  helpless,  unreason- 


2o8  The  Darlingtons 


ing  devotion  to  principle  that  would;  without  mercy, 
grind  to  dust  the  dearest  heart  that  stood  in  his  way. 
But  now,  a  guest  in  her  house,  these  lions  were  slumber- 
ing ;  and,  besides,  she  was  outside  the  cage  —  and  she 
hugged  the  thought  close  that  she  was  not  their  trainer. 
She  could  now  look  upon  the  quiescent  lords  of  brute 
creation  with  equanimity,  and  even  give  them  an  occa- 
sional sly  poke  —  with  a  good  long  pole. 

After  they  had  discussed  politics,  woman's  rights, 
literature,  and  other  subjects.  Winter,  who  was  begin- 
ning to  look  a  little  bored,  said  casually  :  ''  Your  name 
is  a  familiar  one  to  me,  Mr.  Kaltenborn,  under  the 
slightly  modified  form  of  Von  Kaltenborn." 

"Where  did  you  ever  see  it,  Cash?"  asked  Carol, 
curiously.  She  had  fancied  the  name  about  as  rare  as 
the  man. 

"  I  don't  suppose  that  Mr.  Kaltenborn  is  even  aware 
of  the  fact,"  answered  Cash,  with  a  broad  smile,  "that 
one  of  Milwaukee's  most  famous  brewers  is  Fritz  von 
Kaltenborn.  His  beer  is  considered  by  connoisseurs  to 
be  the  purest  in  the  United  States." 

It  seemed  to  Carol  that  Cash  was  taking  a  poke  at 
the  lions  on  his  own  account,  and  with  a  dangerously 
short  pole ;  but  this  only  made  the  performance  more 
interesting.  She  glanced  mischievously  at  Kaltenborn. 
He  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  as  if  to  ascertain 
their  intentions,  and  then  answered  briefly,  but  without 
offence  :  "  Fritz  von  Kaltenborn  is  my  father." 

The  blank  faces  of  his  hearers  must  have  convinced 
him  of  their  innocence.  Carol  gave  a  little  "  Oh  ! " 
and  flushed,  and  glanced  at  Winter.  The  situation  was 
delicate  for  a  moment,  and  Winter  extricated  himself  as 
gracefully  as  possible,  perhaps,  when  he  remarked,  smil- 


Ancestral  and  Other  Secrets      209 

ingly,  "  Well,  he  makes  a  good  honest  brew,  Mr.  Kal- 
tenborn.     I  can  testify  to  that." 

"As  honest  as  any  brew  can  be,  I  presume,"  an- 
swered Kaltenborn,  quietly.  "  Doubtless  some  brews 
are  more  dishonest  than  others,  but  they  are  all  dis- 
honest enough.  My  father  and  I  hold  different  opinions 
about  that,  of  course.  But  when  one  sees  an  employe 
of  a  brewery  draw  thirty  or  forty  or  even  fifty  beer- 
checks  in  one  day,  as  I  have  seen,  and  sees  those 
checks  turned  in  for  as  many  big  glasses  of  beer  in 
one  day,  as  I  have,  one  begins  to  suspect  that  there  is 
something  insidiously  dishonest  about  even  the  honest- 
est  brew,  and  that  those  who  drink  it  will  soon  thirst 
again." 

Though  Winter  had  unwittingly  opened  the  door  of 
the  closet  containing  the  Kaltenborn  family  skeleton,  he 
had  no  desire  to  stand  and  shamelessly  look  in,  or  urge 
Kaltenborn  to  rattle  its  bones.  So  after  making  a  few 
admissions  about  the  dishonesty  of  beer,  he  skilfully 
turned  tne  subject  until  they  were  talking  about  horses. 
It  was  the  first  time  during  the  evening  that  Cash  had 
taken  a  stand  upon  familiar  ground,  and  Carol  was  per- 
fectly willing  to  excuse  him,  though  Kaltenborn  could 
not  be  expected  to  know  much,  if  anything,  about 
horses.  Still,  he  might,  she  reflected,  if  he  was  a 
brewer's  son. 

Winter  finally  asked  Kaltenborn  if  he  was  anything  of 
a  horse  fancier.  Carol  doubted  the  happiness  of  such  a 
question  to  a  minister,  and  a  poorly  paid  one  at  that, 
but  Kaltenborn  answered  readily :  "  I  used  to  be,  and 
am  yet,  though  I  don't  gratify  the  fancy  any  longer." 

"Then  you  don't  see  any  harm  in  horse-racing  — 
that  is,  the  racing  itself? " 

14 


210  The  Darlingtons 

"That's  a  pretty  complicated  question,  Mr.  Winter/' 
answered  Kaltenborn,  smiling,  "  and  one  that  I  could  n't 
answer  satisfactorily  in  a  brief  way.  If  it  were  not  for  the 
cruelty  sometimes  attending  horse-racing,  I  will  say  that 
I  don't  think  the  sport  itself  would  prove  demoralizing." 

After  Winter  had  gone,  Carol  said  to  Kaltenborn, 
with  something  like  reproach  in  her  eyes,  ''  Why  did 
you  tell  us  about  your  father?  Don't  you  know  that  it 
may  hurt  you  ?  " 

Kaltenborn  looked  back  into  the  sofdy  solicitous  eyes 
with  a  grateful  glance.  "  Don't  you  know  that  I  can't 
help  it?"  he  asked,  quaintly. 

"  You  could." 

♦'How?" 

"By  keeping  still."  She  closed  her  own  handsome 
mouth  firmly  to  exemplify. 

Kaltenborn  looked  into  the  fire.  "  You  would  have 
deceived  him?"  he  asked. 

"I  should  have  deceived  him,"  she  answered,  firmly. 

"  Then  you  would  deceive,  would  n't  you,"  he  re- 
turned, as  though  a  suspicion  had  been  verified,  except 
that  he  was  half  jesting. 

"  I  believe  there  are  times  when  the  Recording 
Angel  himself  makes  it  convenient  to  be  out  for  a 
moment,"  she  answered,  earnestly,  in  spite  of  her 
whimsical  figure  of  speech. 

"  Would  this  have  been  one  of  the  times,  do  you 
think  .''  "  he  asked,  half  ironically. 

"  I  think  this  is  one  of  the  times  when  a  he  would 
have  been  the  handmaiden  of  truth." 

"I  have  heard  that  handmaidens  sometimes  deceive 
their  mistresses,"  he  observed,  dryly. 

"  Without  going  too  deeply  into  that  question,"  said 


Ancestral  and  Other  Secrets      211 

Carols  laughing,  "  you  have  done  just  what  I  could  have 
foretold.  You  have  been  guilty,  sir,  of  a  super-sensi- 
tiveness of  conscience.  You  have  impaired  your  use- 
fulness—  no  matter  how  little  —  by  an  unreasoning 
adherence  to  principle.  I  am  not  a  liar,  and  I  despise 
lies  and  liars  ;  but  I  should  have  lied  then  —  if  keeping 
still  would  have  been  lying,  and  I  suppose  it  would. 
Why  should  you  put  weapons  into  your  enemies* 
hands  ?  People  will  hear  of  this  thing.  Mr.  Winter 
will  tell  it  to  some  one,  sooner  or  later.  You  made 
no  secret  of  it,  and  naturally  he  won't.  Your  church 
will  hear  of  it,  and  there  are  people  in  your  church, 
Mr.  Kaltenborn,  who  will  visit  the  sins  of  the  father 
upon  the  son,  and  think  it  a  Christian  merit." 

"  Nobody  knows  that  better  than  I,"  returned  Kal- 
tenborn,  gently.  "  But,  Miss  Darlington,  I  want  to  tell 
you  this."  He  sunk  his  voice  until  its  suppressed 
power  thrilled  Carol  through  and  through.  "  I  don't 
believe  that  any  human  being  was  ever  placed  in  an  ex- 
igency which  justified  a  lie.  I  don't  believe  that  a  he 
ever  yet  did  good,  honest  service.  And  I  don't  want 
jyou  to  believe  that  it  ever  did." 

She  looked  up  into  his  serious  eyes  quite  meekly,  and 
said  nothing.  He  continued,  reflectively:  ''I  don't 
really  regret  the  chance  that  made  it  necessary  for  me 
to  tell  that  about  my  father.  The  secret  was  more  dan- 
gerous in  my  hands  than  out  of  them.  It  has  hurt  me 
more  already,  I  am  sure,  than  it  ever  can  again.  It 
was  making  a  coward  of  me.  It  was  tying  my  hands. 
I  did  n't  knovv^  —  I  don't  know  now  —  how  many  people 
in  this  town  know  that  my  father  is  a  brewer.  It  is  no 
secret  outside  of  Ashboro,  and  some  one  here  may  have 
already  heard  it.     If  it 's  to  be  known  —  and  such  things 


2 1 2  The  Darlingtons 

can't  be  kept  a  secret  indefinitely  —  I  want  to  know 
that  it  is  known.  Then  I  can  meet  the  issue  squarely. 
I  can't  fight  in  the  dark,  Miss  Darlington,  and  that 's 
the  only  place  where  I  can't." 

"  I  fear  you  are  spoiling  for  a  fight,"  she  said,  coyly 
reproving  him.  "But  I  forgive  you.  Men  have  to 
have  a  little  of  that  now  and  then,  apparently,  or  grow 
stale.  But  I  tell  you  candidly,  if  you  are  going  to  tell 
all  your  secrets,  you  will  have  a  hard  row  to  hoe.  You 
might  begin  with  me,  for  practice,"  she  added, 
piquantly. 

"I  will.  I  told  Mr.  Winter  that  I  used  to  own 
horses.     I  '11  tell  you  that  I  used  to  race  them." 

"  Mr.  Kaltenboin,  I  knew  it ! "  she  exclaimed,  lean- 
ing forward  with  kindling  eyes.  ^^  The  first  time  I  ever 
saw  you,  I  knew  you  had  n't  always  been  a  preacher. 
I  don't  mean  anything  uncomplimentary,"  she  ex- 
plained, quickly.  ''  But  I  knew  that  you  had  seen  more 
of  the  world  than  most  preachers  see  —  at  least,  more  of 
one  side  of  it.  And  I  did  n't  think  any  the  less  of  you 
for  it." 

"lean  quite  easily  believe  that,"  he  observed,  in- 
scrutably. 

She  looked  at  him  doubtfully,  with  a  twinkle  in  her 
eye.  "  I  don't  know  just  how  to  take  that,  sir.  You 
mean,  I  suppose,  that  as  soon  as  I  suspected  that  you 
had  been  worldly,  I  had  a  fellow-feeling  for  you.  That 
is  unkind.  But  —  did  you  ever  own  any  real  good 
horses  —  as  good  a  horse  as  Whitefoot,  say  ? "  she 
asked,  curiously. 

"  I  owned  Queen  Charlotte  from  her  first  year  until 
she  burst  a  blood-vessel  at  Fairfield,"  he  answered. 

Carol  sprang  to  her  feet.     "  You  owned  Queen  Char- 


Ancestral  and  Other  Secrets      2 1  3 

lotte?  You  are  joking,  Mr.  Kaltenborn  !  "  she  cried, 
sharply. 

"  No,"  he  said,  with  unmistakable  sincerity. 

"  Queen  Charlotte  was  a  great-aunt  of  my  own  dear 
Whitefoot ! "  she  exclaimed,  enthusiastically.  "  And  you 
never  told  me  !  Wait  a  minute  !  "  She  left  the  room 
abruptly,  and  quickly  returned  with  a  small,  framed  pict- 
ure in  her  hands.  "  This  is  one  of  my  most  treasured 
possessions."  She  laughed  gaily.  "  Look  at  it !  Look 
at  your  own  poor,  noble,  dead  Queen  ! " 

Kaltenborn  took  the  picture  in  his  hands  with  a  faint 
smile,  and  gazed  some  time  at  the  long-bodied,  clean- 
Hmbed  racer.  "  She  was  a  queen,"  he  murmured, 
reminiscently.  *'  I  remember  when  this  very  picture 
was  taken.  It  was  at  Louisville.  I  recognize  the  sheds 
in  the  background.  I  stood  within  ten  feet  of  her,  and 
held  up  a  handkerchief  to  catch  her  eye." 

"  I  declare,  this  is  a  perfect  fairy  tale,  Mr.  Kalten- 
born ! "  exclaimed  Carol,  dehghtedly. 

^'The  day  before  that  mare  died,"  he  continued,  so- 
berly, '•  I  refused  twelve  thousand  dollars  for  her ;  an 
hour  after  she  died,  I  gave  her  to  a  soap-maker  for  the 
hauling.  I  have  thought  a  thousand  times  how  that 
typifies  the  vanities  of  this  world." 

Carol  was  standing  with  her  hand  on  the  back  of  his 
chair,  looking  over  his  shoulder  at  the  picture.  Her 
eyes  wandered  momentarily  to  his  foreshortened  profile. 

"  The  poor,  beautiful  thing !  "  she  exclaimed,  pity- 
ingly. She  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then  began, 
haltingly,  "  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Kaltenborn,  some  people 
believe  that  horses  go  to  heaven  ?  " 

"  Barney  Mitchell  used  to  say  so,"  he  answered,  mus- 
ingly.    "  He  was  Queen's  driver.    The   sympathy   be- 


214  The  Darlingtons 


tween  him  and  her  was  remarkable,  and  the  power  he 
had  over  her  was  Httle  short  of  marvellous.  It  was 
never  more  strikingly  manifested  than  in  the  last  race 
of  her  Hfe.  There  were  eight  other  entries.  Queen  got 
a  bad  start,  but  the  pace  that  she  and  two  other  favor- 
ites set  —  Witchcraft  and  Peggy  Hubbard  —  was  so  ter- 
rific that  the  three  soon  had  the  track  to  themselves. 
When  they  reached  the  three-quarter  post,  Witchcraft 
and  Hubbard  were  abreast,  with  Queen  two  lengths 
behind.  I  had  hopes,  though,  until  I  saw  Mitchell  drop 
his  whip,  —  the  only  time  he  ever  did  such  a  trick  in  his 
life, — and  then  I  put  up  my  glasses.  Mitchell  knew 
the  mare  better  than  I  did.  By  his  voice,  and  by  gently 
patting  her  haunch  with  his  hand,  he  forced  her  to 
take  up  the  gap  between  herself  and  the  others.  Then 
he  got  her  abreast  of  them,  and  held  his  place  until  they 
were  well  down  the  stretch.  By  this  time  the  mare  was 
in  a  frenzy,  and  her  eyes  glared  wildly.  A  hundred  feet 
from  the  finish,  Barney  spoke  her  name,  in  a  quick, 
sharp  tone.  She  gave  a  terrific  spurt,  and  shot  under 
the  wire  a  length  ahead  of  Witchcraft,  who  got  place. 
As  she  did  so  she  fell  to  her  knees,  and  doubled  up  in  a 
heap  from  her  momentum.  Mitchell  shot  over  her  head, 
and  landed  twenty  feet  beyond.  I  supposed  she  had 
stumbled ;  but  as  soon  as  MitcheM  had  collected  his 
senses  and  taken  one  look  at  her,^e  turned  away  with 
a  face  as  white  as  chalk.  He  knew  she  was  dying,  and 
of  all  the  jockeys  and  veterinarians  that  crowded  around 
the  fallen  horse,  he  was  the  only  one  that  did  know  it. 
Of  course,  we  all  saw  it  after  a  little.  That  scene  haunt- 
ed my  memory  for  days,"  he  added  sadly.  ''There 
was  an  almost  human  pathos  in  Queen's  eyes  as  she 
turned  them  on  the  crowd  that  pushed  about  her,  as 


Ancestral  and  Other  Secrets      215 

though  she  knew  she  had  done  her  duty,  and  had  no 
regrets.  When  a  veterinarian  announced  that  she  had 
broken  a  blood-vessel  and  could  n't  live  an  hour,  I  saw 
more  than  one  woman  burst  into  tears.  She  was  a  great 
favorite  with  women." 

Carol  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then  slowly  walked 
over  to  her  chair  and  sat  down.  When  she  looked  up 
and  said,  in  a  subdued  voice,  "  I  love  a  good  horse  and 
a  good  race,"  her  eyes  were  wet. 

"Yet  you  have  only  seen  the  bright  side  of  racing," 
said  Kaltenborn,  after  a  pause,  which  seemed  to  be  in 
honor  of  the  dead  mare.  ''The  reverse  side  of  the 
stage  is  not  more  different  from  its  front  than  the  re- 
verse side  of  a  race-track  from  its  front.  If  you  could 
see  the  cut-throats,  gamblers,  card-sharps,  and  touts 
that  swarm  from  one  track  to  another ;  the  lying,  buy- 
ing, stealing,  and  intriguing  that  accompany  every  race  ; 
the  degraded  characters  that  infest  the  stables ;  their 
profligate,  soulless  lives,  their  vulgar  display  of  ill-gotten 
gains,  and  the  coarseness  of  thought  and  speech  in  the 
best  of  them  —  if  you  could  see  all  this,  you  would  feel 
almost  sorry  for  the  beautiful,  high-spirited  animals  that 
have  to  associate  daily  and  hourly  with  them.  And  I  am 
sure,  too,  that  if  you  had  once  seen  all  these  things,  as  I 
have,  it  would  forevor  poison  the  pleasure  you  now  get 
from  a  horse-race,  just  as  it  spoils  mine." 

"  I  know,  in  a  vague  way,  of  it  all,"  she  said.  "That 
is,  I  have  heard." 

"  Yes,  as  you  have  heard  of  the  profligacies  of  ancient 
Rome  or  the  bestiahty  of  the  Feudal  Age.  But  that  is 
very  far  from  a  comprehension  of  them. " 

At  the  door  she  said,  with  a  twinkle,  "  The  next  time 
you  come  I  won't  make  you  talk  breweries  and  horse- 


21  6  The  Darlingtons 

racing.  But  it's  so  few  preachers  that  can  talk  entertain- 
ingly on  those  subjects  !  "  She  paused  roguishly,  and 
Kaltenborn  punished  her  temerity  by  giving  her  hand 
an  added  pressure. 

Carol  walked  slowly  back  to  the  music-room,  closed 
the  piano,  and  then  went  on  into  the  sitting-room,  where 
the  family  all  happened  to  be  gathered  at  the  moment 
—  Bert  smoking,  Mr.  Darlington  buried  in  his  paper, 
Ruth  reading,  and  Mrs.  Darlington  picking  over  a  bas- 
ket of  silk  yarns.  Carol  was  braced  for  an  onslaught  of 
raillery,  for  her  various  encounters  with  Kaltenborn 
had  become  a  family  joke,  and  this,  his  first  call,  could 
hardly  be  passed  over.     But  not  a  word  was  said. 

Carol  settled  down  momentarily  on  a  chair  before  go- 
ing upstairs,  and  mentally  compared  the  horse  that  one 
of  Kaltenborn's  parishioners  had  placed  at  his  disposal 
with  Queen  Charlotte.  She  had  smiled  more  than  once 
at  the  ambling  gait  of  the  former  with  the  rattling 
vehicle  he  drew.  She  never  would  again,  she  decided. 
She  would  be  more  likely  to  cry.  The  man  that  could 
come  down  from  a  Queen  Charlotte  to  old  Mr.  Meeks's 
family  driving-horse  for  conscience's  sake  was  worthy  of 
tears. 

"  No,  Bert,'*'  began  Mr.  Darlington,  with  sanctimoni- 
ous gravity,  "  I  don't  think  your  views  on  amusements 
are  just  orthodox.  They  are  more  Episcopalian  than 
Methodistical.  You  hold  that  all  innocent  amusements 
are  harmless ;  we  hold  that  all  harmless  amusements  are 
innocent." 

Carol  instantly  saw  the  game,  which  Ruth's  snickering 
would  have  betrayed  in  any  event.  She  said  nothing, 
and  did  not  look  up,  though  her  cheeks  slightly  red- 
dened.    Bert  smiled  at  his  father's  drollery^  but  refused 


Ancestral  and  Other  Secrets      217 

to  become  a  party  to  it.     Ruth^  however,  had  no  such 
scruples. 

"  Still,  I  don 't  just  see,  sir,"  she  answered,  in  a 
mincing  tone,  "where  the  harm  lies  in  a  game  of 
croquet." 

"Are  not  the  balls  round,  like  a  bilHard  ball?"  de- 
manded her  father.  "  Do  they  not  roll  to  and  fro  over 
the  uneven  ground  by  chance 'i  It  is  the  chance  ele- 
ment that  damns  croquet." 

Carol  rose  and  walked  toward  the  door  with  well- 
assumed  dignity  \  but  before  she  got  out  of  the  room 
her  mouth  began  to  twitch  with  suppressed  laughter, 
and  finally  she  was  fairly  shaking.  Then  turning  and 
laying  aside  all  pretence,  she  said,  with  a  tantalizing 
gleam  in  her  eyes,  "  Papa,  if  you  only  knew  what  we 
did  talk  about !  " 

"What?"  demanded  Ruth,  instantly  dropping  farce 
for  reality. 

*'  You  guess,"  retorted  Carol,  and  disappeared. 

Meanwhile  Kaltenborn  walked  homeward.  It  was 
ten  o'clock  when  he  got  there,  and  he  had  an  hour  yet 
to  read.  Half  a  dozen  books  lay  on  his  table.  He 
glanced  them  over,  and  found  that  he  had  no  appetite 
for  any  of  them.  Yet  he  distinctly  remembered  laying 
down  Bishop  Foster's  "  Prolegomena  "  with  regret  when 
the  hour  for  him  to  go  to  Miss  Darlington's  had  come. 
He  took  Emerson  out  of  the  case  —  a  favorite  that 
seldom  failed  to  soothe  him  ;  but  he  soon  found  him- 
self turning  the  pages  with  his  mind  miles  away. 

Or  was  it  only  blocks  away  ?  No,  it  was  not  Miss 
Darlington,  he  decided.  He  was  wandering  in  spirit 
through  the  great  over-furnished  halls  and  rooms  of  a 
palace  overlooking  the  green  waters  of  Lake  Michigan, 


21  8  The  Darlingtons 

the  place  he  had  once  called  home,  and  which  his 
lonely  old  father  yet  called  home.  The  picture  stirred 
scarce  a  tender  emotion  in  his  bosom.  The  great 
castle-like  pile,  with  its  craggy,  granite  walls, —  the 
model  of  which  stood  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  — 
looked  as  cold  and  cheerless,  in  Kaltenborn's  fancy, 
as  the  dark  vaults  in  which  was  stored  the  beer  that 
built  it.  He  saw,  too,  in  fancy,  his  father  as  he  had  last 
seen  him  in  the  flesh,  —  a  stalwart,  vigorous  old  man, 
with  a  face  now  as  hard  and  grim  as  an  iron  mask,  his 
finger  pointing  to  the  door,  his  firm  lips  saying,  "  Go, 
and  come  no  more  ! "  It  was  the  day  Kaltenborn  had 
announced  his  determination  to  become  a  preacher. 

Next,  his  dream-fairy  carried  him  to  Fairfield  track 
again,  where  Queen  Charlotte  had  died  amid  the  bustle 
of  stable-boys  and  jockeys,  and  hard-faced,  diamond- 
decked  "  bookies,"  with  their  glaring  shirt-fronts,  "  loud  " 
ties,  and  plaid  clothes.  There  was  little  here  to  tempt 
him  to  linger,  and  next  he  was  back  in  his  rooms  at 
Heidelberg,  a  student  again.  Then,  with  the  speed  of 
thought,  he  visited  successively  his  law-office,  the  par- 
sonage at  his  former  charge,  and  —  the  music-room  at 
the  Darlingtons',  with  her.  It  was  Carol,  perhaps,  after 
all.  Or  was  it  only  the  life  she  stood  for  ?  And  was  there 
not  a  life  somewhere  between  the  two  extremes  he  had 
known,  in  which  he  might  find  a  place,  and  be  neither 
cramped  nor  lost  ? 

He  tossed  the  Essays  upon  the  table,  and  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets  strode  gloomily  up  and  down  his 
study.  He  paused  once  and  looked  at  the  unfinished 
sermon  upon  his  desk.  As  he  read  the  last  lines  over 
aloud,  in  a  bitter,  satirical  tone,  he  laughed  half-scorn- 
fully.   They  sounded  as  false  and  hoUow  as  a  page  from 


Ancestral  and  Other  Secrets      219 

a  melodrama,  and  seizing  the  sheets,  he  made  a  motion 
as  if  to  tear  them  in  two. 

"  Have  I  got  to  fight  this  battle  all  over  again  ? "  he 
asked,  savagely.  Then,  quickly  ashamed  of  his  weak- 
ness, he  smiled,  and  laid  the  sheets  gently  down,  and 
murmured,  "  I  have  a  little  touch  of  poison  in  my  veins 
to-night,  but  I  '11  throw  it  off  by  morning." 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE   LEAVEN   WORKS 

In  the  hvo  months  that  followed,  Kaltenborn  called  on 
Carol  a  number  of  times.  His  visits  to  her  soon  be- 
came the  event  of  the  week  for  him.  He  fomid  him- 
self looking  forward  to  them ;  and  his  mind  often  stole 
away  from  the  sermon  under  his  hand  to  that  cozy 
room  in  the  Darlington  mansion,  with  its  soft  chairs,  its 
genial  grate-fire,  its  light,  its  soothing,  hospitable  atmos- 
phere, and  its  charming  mistress.  That  music-room  was 
the  one  place  in  Ashboro  where  Kaltenborn  allowed 
himself  'co  expand ;  the  one  place  where  he  could 
hft  the  shroud  from  his  dead  past,  and  lay  down  for  a 
moment  the  burdens  of  his  living  present.  There  he 
was  not  a  preacher,  but  merely  Stephen  Kaltenborn. 
There  no  oracular  significance  attached  to  his  words, 
for  no  admiring  supporters  were  there  to  quote  them,  no 
malcontents  to  misinterpret  them.  In  Carol  he  found 
an  intelligent,  if  not  always  an  assenting,  Hstener,  and 
their  amicable  tilts  were  as  bracing  to  him  as  a  draught 
of  mountain  air. 

He  received,  too,  as  well  as  gave,  and  found  it  in  this 
instance  fully  as  blessed.  Through  Carol's  eyes  he 
looked  into  a  world  resembling  a  good  deal  the  world 
he  had  renounced.  He  saw  there  much  to  disapprove, 
and  much  to  admire.      Carol,   as   a   favored  child  of 


The  Leaven  Works  221 

fortune,  vividly  typified  her  little  world,  at  its  best  and 
at  its  worst.  She  was  worldly,  but  also  broad  ;  perfunc- 
tory in  religion,  but  tolerant ;  lacking  sympathy  for  the 
ignorant,  but  herself  cultured ;  shrinking  from  poverty, 
but  still  charitable. 

Yet,  for  all  this,  Kaltenborn  soon  began  to  feel  vaguely 
a  sense  of  loss.  The  morning  after  an  evening  at  the 
Darlingtons',  his  tension  was  relaxed  and  his  mind 
vitiated.  An  effort  was  required  for  him  to  swing  back 
into  the  routine  of  his  life ;  and  once  back,  he  found 
himself  weighed  down  with  a  most  stubborn  lethargy. 
He  was  assailed  at  times  by  an  almost  unconquerable 
aversion  to  his  more  homely  duties,  such  as  visiting  the 
sick  and  settling  differences  between  his  parishioners. 
He  found  himself  less  elated  by  success,  and  more  dis- 
couraged by  failure. 

The  cause  was  perfectly  plain  to  him.  As  he  had 
grown  more  intimate  with  Carol,  she  had  drawn  him 
further  and  further  into  her  life,  and  her  pleasures  and 
work  and  friends  and  ambitions  had  more  and  more 
taken  up  their  conversation.  This,  too,  not  from  any 
choosing  of  Carol's,  or  in  opposition  to  Kaltenborn's 
wishes,  but  naturally,  easily,  and  almost  unconsciously. 
In  the  same  measure  his  work  and  ambitions  and 
pleasures  had  sunk  out  of  sight,  until  at  last  he  actually 
felt  diffident  about  introducing  into  their  conversation 
anything  especially  connected  with  his  church. 

A  superficiality  of  thought,  too,  marked  their  inter- 
course, when  he  came  to  analyze  it  in  the  serenity 
of  his  study.  That  sledge-hammer  insistency  of  argu- 
ment which  he  had  employed  with  Carol,  when  he 
cared  nothing  for  her  favor,  had  dwindled  away  to 
tack-hammer  strokes.     Not  through  any  indifference  of 


222  The  Darlingtons 

his,  but  because  he  had  come  to  believe,  through  some 
witchcraft  or  other,  that  sledge-hammers  were  not  as 
genteel  a  tool  to  use  in  a  lady's  sitting-room  as  a  tack- 
hammer.  Carol,  too,  had  changed.  The  sharp-pointed 
javelin  and  the  cleaving  battle-axe  with  which  she  had 
once  ridden  full  tilt  at  Kaltenborn  had  been  laid  aside  for 
mere  toys  of  weapons,  and  their  jousting  had  degen- 
erated into  a  dull  sham  battle. 

As  between  friends,  this  kind  of  intercourse  was  all 
right,  from  some  people's  point  of  view.  But  from 
Kaltenborn's,  it  was  all  wrong.  He  believed  the  friend- 
ship between  him  and  Carol  had  to  be  intellectual  or 
nothing.  Anything  else  was  impossible  ;  or,  if  possible, 
dangerous,  and  destined  to  end  in  vain  regrets.  He 
realized  perfectly  the  gulf  between  her  and  him.  Be- 
sides, he  never  expected  to  marry ;  and  if  he  did  marry, 
his  wife  must  be  a  woman  who  could  further  his  chosen 
work.  Carol  Darlington  was  obviously  not  that  woman. 
He  had  proved  it  more  than  once,  not  so  much  to  his 
satisfaction,  perhaps,  as  to  his  dissatisfaction.  She  was 
good,  kind,  pure,  and  high-minded ;  but  the  idea  of 
sacrificing  her  life  for  others  had  never  taken  hold  of 
her,  and  probably  never  would.  She  even  regarded 
such  sacrifices  as  unnecessary  and  quixotic,  and  their 
very  discussion  seemed  to  chill  and  subdue  her,  when 
indeed  it  did  not  provoke  her  to  impatience.  This 
demonstrating  of  Carol's  unfitness  to  be  his  wife  had  a 
very  questionable  fascination  for  Kaltenborn,  and  he 
displayed  remarkable  ingenuity  in  devising  new  tests  for 
her.  Indeed,  one  might  have  suspected  that  he  was 
trying  to  find  a  test  which  she  could  successfully  stand. 

Yet  the  honesty  and  courage  with  which  she  clung  to 
her   convictions   charmed    him.      The   patience    with 


The  Leaven  Works  223 

which  she  usually  let  him  scathe  her  philosophy  struck 
him  as  truly  admirable,  and  her  humility  under  his  ap- 
parent assumption  of  superiority  was  an  unfailing  source 
of  wonder  to  him.  She  would  sit  and  listen  to  him  —  they 
were  not  always  superficial  —  looking  into  the  fire  with 
an  incredulous  httle  smile  on  her  face.  Or  she  would 
sit  in  sober  thought,  or  with  her  brows  knit  in  a  puzzled 
frown.  At  such  moments,  as  Kaltenborn  measured 
every  feature  of  hers  with  his  eyes,  her  firm  mouth, 
her  determined  chin,  her  chiselled  nose,  just  like  her 
father's,  her  shrewd,  intelligent  eyes,  her  shapely 
head,  with  its  broad,  low  brow,  his  heart  sometimes 
melted  with  pity  to  think  by  how  little  she  had  missed 
greatness. 

"  Mr.  Kaltenborn,  you  must  think  I  am  an  awfully 
weak  woman,"  said  Carol,  on  one  of  these  occasions. 
She  spoke  in  a  subdued  tone,  though  bending  a  smile 
upon  him.  "  You  must  have  a  dreadful  opinion  of  my 
nobility.  But,  believe  me,  I  could  do  all  those  things,  if 
I  only  thought  they  were  7iecessary.  If  I  thought  it 
would  serve  some  great  end,  I  believe  I  could  die  at 
the  stake  as  bravely  as  Joan  of  Arc  died.  I  could 
spend  all  my  days  in  poverty,  abject  poverty,  and  be 
happy,  if  it  were  for  some  one  whom  I  dearly  loved.  I 
am  as  sure  of  that  as  I  am  that  I  live.  Do  you  believe 
it?"  She  gave  him  a  steady,  searching  gaze,  without 
lifting  her  head  from  its  thoughtful  inclination. 

"  I  do,"  he  answered.     "  I  never  thought  you  weak." 

"What  is  my  trouble  then?"  she  asked,  and  there 
was  something  half-pathetic  in  her  forced  smile.  *'I 
know  you  believe  there  is  something  wrong." 

*'  You  can't  learn  that  sacrifices  are  necessary,"  he 
answered,  earnestly.     ''If  you  could  learn  that  great 


224  The  Darlingtons 

opportunities  are  lying  every  day  in  your  path,  awaiting 
noble,  unselfish  devotion  on  your  part,  regardless  of 
cost,  your  trouble,  trust  me,  would  be  gone." 

She  gazed  thoughtfully  at  the  floor,  with  a  little  doubt- 
ing smile,  the  plaintiveness  of  which  he  had  learned  to 
love.  "That  sounds  very  familiar,  Mr.  Kaltenborn, " 
she  said,  "but  I  know  you  wouldn't  talk  in  that  way 
unless  you  meant  something.  Tell  me  what  sacrifice  I 
can  make  to-morrow  that  will  help  some  one,'*  she  con- 
tinued, lifting  her  face  resolutely,  "  and  I  will  make  it 
at  any  cost." 

"  I  can't  tell  you,"  he  answered,  smiHng  at  her  frank- 
ness. "  It  is  almost  as  much  of  a  grace  to  see  these 
things  as  to  do  them.  But  you  keep  a  sharp  eye  to- 
morrow, and  see  if  you  don't  discover  something  before 
twelve  o'clock.  But  don't  take  it  too  seriously.  Don't 
regard  yourself  as  a  martyr,  or  become  quixotic,  and 
take  a  wind-mill  for  a  giant.  Don't  go  around  mortify- 
ing your  flesh  to  no  good  end.  The  commonest  flesh 
is  too  good  to  be  mortified  without  reason,  and  I  some- 
times think  that  when  it  is  white  and  tender  it  has  a 
special  claim  for  exemption." 

Carol  gave  him  a  little  wise  look,  as  though  this  also 
sounded  familiar,  but  as  though  she  doubted  this  time 
whether  it  meant  anything  or  not.  Dropping  her  head 
shghtly,  as  women  do  under  fire  of  this  kind,  she  said, 
quietly,  and  he  thought  disappointedly,  "  I  didn't  sup- 
pose you  ever  noticed  such  things." 

"What,  then,  in  this  fair  world  of  God's,  did  you 
suppose  I  would  notice  ?  "  he  asked,  slightly  resenting 
her  tone. 

"  I  did  n't  just  mean  what  I  said,"  she  murmured, 
begging  forgiveness  with  her  soft  eyes. 


The  Leaven  Works  225 

"  I  think  God  made  such  things  to  be  noticed,"  he 
added. 

"  But  in  silence,"  she  suggested,  slyly,  glancing  up 
from  under  her  brows  as  she  worked  her  gown  into  httle 
folds  over  her  knee. 

"  I  fancy  you  don't  mean  that  either,"  he  returned 
dryly. 

''But  you  do  notice  them  in  silence,  mostly,  —  don't 
you?"  she  asked,  defensively. 

"  Whenever  that 's  possible,"  he  answered,  gallantly. 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  asked,  as  if 
suggesting  a  change  of  subject,  "  Is  anything  impossible 
with  you  men  ?  " 

"  Nothing  except  you  women,"  he  returned,  refusing 
to  change  the  subject. 

She  slowly  traced  some  imaginary  characters  on  her 
chair-arm  with  her  forefinger.  "  That  spells  '  foolish,'  " 
said  she,  with  a  keen  smile,  "and  it  means  us." 

^'  You  are  a  good  speller,"  he  said,  with  significant 
gravity. 

When  he  arose  to  go,  Carol  said,  "  The  next  time 
you  come,  I  will  report  on  my  efforts  to  find  a  sacrifice 
to-morrow,  and  this  is  a  token  of  my  earnestness." 
With  just  the  least  self-consciousness,  she  shpped  into 
his  buttonhole  a  rosebud  she  had  taken  from  a  cluster 
on  the  table.  "  Be  careful  that  you  don't  crush  it  with 
your  overcoat,"  she  added,  with  almost  maternal  author- 
ity in  her  tones.  She  changed  the  position  of  the 
flower  a  Httle,  as  though  he  were  a  boy,  and  he  felt  a 
mounting  happiness  within  which  was  indeed  boyish. 

He  had  just  removed  his  overcoat  at  Mrs.  Hicks's, 
when  the  old  woman,  in  her  slippers  and  wrapper,  ap- 
peared in  the  doorway  at  the  end  of  the  hall. 

15 


22  6  The  Darlingtons 

"Brother  Kaltenborn,"  she  began,  in  her  high,  rasp- 
ing key.  "  Mrs.  Doolittle  was  took  worse  to-night,  and 
they  think  she 's  dyin'.  Her  boy  was  here  for  you 
about  an  hour  ago.  I  'd  a-sent  him  for  you,  but  I 
told  him  I  did  n't  have  the  slightest  idee  where  you 
was.  I  knew  there  wa'n't  no  church-doin's  on  to- 
night, and  you  don't  belong  to  any  lodge.  I  told  him 
you  generally  left  word  where  you  could  be  found  in 
just  sich  emergencies  as  this,  but  that  you'd  overlooked 
it  to-night,  I  guessed.  That 's  a  pretty  bud  in  your  coat," 
she  added,  her  voice  falling  confidentially.  "  Guess 
you  must  'a'  been  around  some  greenhouse,  because 
them  roses  don't  bloom  in  everybody's  house  this  time 
o'  year.  Put  it  in  water,  and  it  will  open  by  to-morrow 
mornin'." 

"  I  '11  go  around  to  Mrs.  Doolittle's  at  once,"  said 
Kaltenborn,  in  his  abruptest  tone.  He  was  in  his 
overcoat  again  by  this  time,  and  he  at  once  stalked 
out.  As  he  walked  rapidly  along,  he  turned  over  in  his 
mind  the  desirability  of  changing  his  quarters.  This 
prying  into  the  secret  of  his  occasional  absences  at 
night  was  becoming  very  irritating  to  him. 

Carol  Darlington  undressed  that  night  with  a  thought- 
ful, preoccupied  expression  on  her  handsome  face. 
Occasionally  she  smiled  a  little,  but  for  the  most  part 
she  was  serious.  Following  a  custom  of  hers,  she  put 
on  a  flannel  robe  and  slippers,  drew  a  fragile,  brass- 
legged  table  close  to  the  fire,  and  began  a  letter.  But 
evidently  she  had  mistaken  her  mood,  for  she  sat  whole 
minutes  with  her  slim  white  hand  pressed  against  her 
flushed  cheek,  and  her  eyes  lost  in  reverie.  Finally, 
though,  she  wrote  rapidly  for  a  time.    The  writing  ran,  — 


The  Leaven  Works  227 

"  He  is  a  character  that  you  would  simply  revel  in, 
and  he  would  make  a  fine  addition  to  your  cabinet  of 
curios,  though  you  would  have  to  enlarge  it  several  feet 
each  way,  as  there  is  nothing  small  about  him.  He  has 
a  very  striking  figure,  too,  which  I  sha'n't  attempt  to 
describe,  except  to  say  that  you  simply  can't  imagine 
him  in  a  dress-suit.  He  has  n't  even  a  dressy  complex- 
ion, for  he's  quite  ruddy.  (I  can't  say  much  there. 
My  blowziness  is  still  with  me,  and  these  cold,  windy 
days  are  especially  favorable  to  it.) 

''  He  's  a  radical  about  some  things,  and  I  'm  afraid 
he  does  n't  like  women  very  well.  That 's  a  great 
defect,  of  course.  Ahem  !  But  he  may  outgrow  it  — 
he  's  only  thirty-five  !  If  you  could  see  him,  Clara,  you 
would  either  hate  him  or  love  him  at  first  sight  —  you 
are  so  terribly  absolute.  I  believe  you  would  love  him, 
though ;  so  perhaps  it  is  just  as  well  for  you  not  to  see 
him,  because  he  is  not  a  marryi?ig  man,  strictly.  He 
does  n't  go  in  for  society,  either,  so  you  would  n't  want 
him.  I  should  just  about  as  soon  think  of  leading  a 
grizzly  bear  through  a  chinaware  exhibit  as  of  taking 
him  to  an  afternoon  tea,  for  instance.  Maybe  that 
recommends  him  to  you,  though.  Or  have  you  out- 
grown that  fearful  unconventionality  of  yours? 

"  He  thinks  (I  'm  full  of  him  to-night,  for  he  was  just 
here,  and  you  have  got  to  stand  it)  that  a  woman  hasn't 
any  right  to  marry  a  man  unless  she  can  fathom  all  his 
ambitions  and  all  that,  and  help  him  out  with  them. 
Can  you  do  that  for  Tom?  If  not,  my  dear,  it  is  my 
painful  duty  to  inform  you  that  your  contemplated 
marriage  is  a  mistake,  and  sooner  or  later  will  bring 
you  to  grief  But,  dear  me  !  what  can  a  poor  girl  do  ? 
He  says  she  ought  to  crush  her  love,  for  the  man's  sake, 


228  The  Darlingtons 

and  keep  away  from  him.  That 's  one  kind  of  crush- 
ing that  he  does  n't  know  much  about,  I  fancy.  And  if 
a  woman  should  do  it,  how  much  credit  would  she  get 
from  the  very  man  she  had  done  it  for?  You  tell  me, 
Clarissa  dear,  the  next  time  you  write." 

This  long  spurt  over,  Carol's  pen  again  lagged  ;  and, 
abandoning  the  letter  for  the  moment,  she  left  the  table, 
and  sank  down  into  the  big  leather  chair.  A  pretty 
picture  she  made,  with  her  queenly  figure  at  rest,  the 
toes  of  her  red  slippers  just  touching  the  fender,  the 
mass  of  fair  hair  pillowed  against  the  chocolate-colored 
leather,  her  half-closed  eyes  liquid  and  bright  with  name- 
less, unutterable  thoughts. 

She  was  not  thinking  of  Kaltenborn  either  —  not  just 
then.  She  was  thinking  of  her  mother.  Mrs.  Darling- 
ton was  the  only  deeply  religious  member  of  the  family. 
Ruth's  religious  nature  had  not  yet  awakened  ;  Herbert 
had  no  convictions ;  his  father  was  indifferent  or  scepti- 
cal ;  and  Carol  herself  was  only  lukewarm  at  the  best. 
The  family  attitude  toward  the  church  was  frequently 
a  subject  of  raillery  in  the  domestic  circle.  The  rector 
of  St.  Paul's  —  and,  later,  Kaltenborn  —  also  came  in 
now  and  then  for  a  good-natured  thrust. 

It  was  all  done  in  a  kindly,  tolerant  spirit ;  but  to-night 
Carol  wondered,  in  her  unwonted  tenderness,  if  this 
bantering  had  not  more  than  once  given  her  mother 
pain.  Some  things  were  too  sacred  for  the  most  kindly 
jesting.  From  this  she  got  to  thinking  of  her  mother's 
marriage,  her  wanderings  with  her  young  husband,  her 
first  babies.  This  period  of  her  mother's  life  had 
always  been  very  vague  to  Carol,  but  she  knew  the  main 
facts,  and  now  her  kindled  imagination  clothed  the 
skeleton  with  flesh.     She  was  old  enough  now  to  put 


The  Leaven  Works  229 

herself  in  her  mother's  place,  in  those  days  of  young 
wifehood ;  and  the  fact  that  her  mother  had  once  been 
a  young  woman  like  herself,  filled  with  the  same  glowing, 
rosy  hopes ;  that  her  mother  had  once  been  wooed  and 
won,  just  as  she,  Carol,  would  some  day  probably  be ; 
that  her  mother  was  then  young  and  inexperienced  and 
only  a  girl,  —  all  this  came  to  Carol  to-night  like  a  revela- 
tion, with  a  new  and  intensified  meaning. 

In  this  new  Hght,  she  pictured  her  mother,  then  a 
young  wife,  striving  with  both  hope  and  fear  to  turn  her 
worldly  young  husband's  thoughts  upward.  She  saw 
her  fail,  in  bitter  but  hidden  pain  ;  saw  her  turning  then, 
with  hope  springing  up  anew,  to  her  babies,  to  plant  in 
them  in  good  season  the  spiritual  seed  which  had  but 
languished  and  died  in  the  stony  soil  of  her  husband's 
nature. 

Those  babies,  what  were  they  now  ?  —  Carol  asked 
herself.  Amiable  scoffers.  The  thought  was  inexpres- 
sibly touching  to  her,  and  she  murmured,  with  tears  in 
her  eyes,  "  Poor  little  mother  !  How  many  times  has 
your  heart  ached  for  us  ! "  She  rose,  with  a  swelling 
bosom.  In  that  moment  she  felt  that  never,  so  long  as 
she  lived,  could  she  give  her  mother  the  least  pain 
again.  She  started  for  her  mother's  room,  for  she 
wanted  to  look  into  her  face,  and  see  if  there  was  any 
sadness  there  now.  But  remembering  that  her  mother 
must  be  in  bed,  she  paused.  Tlie  next  moment  she 
was  on  her  knees  by  the  side  of  her  own  bed,  with 
bowed  head.  It  was  not  conversion.  It  was  a  tribute  to 
mother-love,  and  it  eased  the  daughter's  aching  heart. 

When  she  rose,  she  murmured  aloud,  with  a  fluttering, 
yearning  sigh,  "  If  I  could  only  feel  as  good  and  tender 
as  this  all  the  time  I  '^ 


230  The  Darlingtons 

In  the  morning  the  rose-color  was  gone,  but  not  for- 
gotten. After  her  cold  bath  and  five  minutes  of  exercise 
with  her  clubs,  she  went  downstairs,  where  she  found 
the  family  already  at  breakfast. 

"  What  was  the  theme  last  night,  Carol  ? "  asked  her 
father,  after  a  little,  with  a  wink  at  Bert.  *'  It  must  have 
been  a  tough  one.  You  look  pretty  well  tuckered  out 
this  morning." 

Her  father's  joking  words  sounded  harsh  and  cynical 
just  then.  "  Papa,  do  you  see  anything  particularly 
ridiculous  in  Mr.  Kaltenborn  ?  "  she  asked  with  dignity. 

'•  I  don't  see  anything  ridiculous  in  him  at  all,"  pro- 
tested her  father,  but  with  waggery  in  his  eyes. 

"  Then  why  are  you  always  asking  what  our  theme 
was  ?  You  insinuate  that  we  do  nothing  but  engage  in 
ridiculous  theological  disputes." 

*'  Not  at  all,  not  at  all  ! "  returned  Darlington,  airily 
—  and  provokingly.  "  I  am  interested  in  what  you  talk 
about,  of  course.  I  don't  want  him  to  be  putting  any 
unorthodox  ideas  into  your  head.  They  say  he 's  a 
little  radical,"  he  added,  with  a  look  of  mock  concern. 

"  Your  solicitude  about  my  orthodoxy  is  touching, 
papa,"  she  retorted,  sarcastically.  "  It 's  a  wonder  that 
the  opinions  of  some  of  my  other  friends  don't  cause 
you  uneasiness." 

"  No,  I  feel  perfectly  confident  of  your  ability  to  take 
care  of  yourself  with  everybody  except  Brother  Kalten- 
born. He 's  a  giant  that  could  crush  you  as  I  would  an 
egg-shell." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  you  and  him  in  an  argument 
once,"  said  Carol,  with  a  little  threatening  laugh. 

"  Oh,  you  would,  would  you  !  "  exclaimed  her  father, 
defiantly. 


The  Leaven  Works  231 

"  I  '11  bet  there  would  n't  be  enough  left  of  papa  to 
draw  a  conclusion  from  !  "  cried  Ruth,  derisively,  all  her 
sympathies  with  Carol  in  this  contest. 

"  Young  ladies  don't  bet,  Ruth,"  said  her  mother, 
reprovingly.  Then  she  added  quietly,  but  proudly, 
"  Your  father  has  held  his  own  in  debate  with  some  very 
clever  men,  Carol." 

''  They  think  I  'm  a  fool,  Winifred,"  said  Darlington, 
looking  across  at  his  wife.  "  Perhaps  if  I  wore  a  Prince 
Albert  and  carried  a  ready-reference  Bible  around  under 
my  arm,  they'd  have  some  respect  for  me." 

Carol  bit  her  lip,  and  scarcely  spoke  again  during  the 
meal.  Darlington  saw  that  he  had  gone  too  far,  and  he 
attempted  some  conciHatory  jocularity  toward  Carol, 
but  she  would  have  none  of  it.  When  the  others 
had  gone,  Mrs.  Darlington  said,  "  Carol,  don't  you 
know  your  father  well  enough  to  know  when  he  is 
joking?  " 

"  I  do,  mamma.  And  well  enough  to  know  when  he 
is  not  joking."  She  spoke  in  a  hurt  tone.  "  I  don't 
care  anything  more  about  Mr.  Kaltenborn  than  I  do 
about  any  other  preacher  I  know,  but  I  won't  have  him 
ridiculed  behind  his  back  as  long  as  he  calls  here  and 
is  received  by  the  household  as  a  friend.  It  is  n't 
gentlemanly,  and  it  is  n't  honest." 

She  walked  down  to  the  office  in  a  frame  of  mind  in 
ill  accord  with  the  glorious  winter  sunshine.  She 
decided  that  she  would  treat  her  father  coollv  all  that 
day,  and  maybe  longer.  At  the  head  of  the  stairs  she 
paused  abruptly,  and  stood  still  for  a  moment.  "  Sacri- 
fice No.  One  !  "  she  murmured,  and  instead  of  going  to 
her  own  room,  she  turned  towards  the  president's  door. 
She  found  her  father  reading  the  morning  paper. 


232  The  Darlingtons 

"  Papa,  I  want  you  to  take  that  back,"  she  said, 
without  sitting  down. 

"  Take  what  back  ?"  he  asked  in  apparent  surprise. 

"  What  you  said  about  Mr.  Kaltenborn,"  she  answered, 
with  unusual  earnestness. 

"What  did  I  say  about  Kaltenborn?"  he  asked  in 
his  most  innocent  tone. 

"  Please  don't,  papa  !  "  she  begged.  "  I  swallowed 
my  pride  and  came  in  here  to  effect  a  reconciliation, 
but  I  'm  going  out  again  if  you  are  going  to  talk  in  that 
way." 

He  looked  at  her  earnest  face  curiously,  and  with 
either  surprise  or  admiration,  or  both.  "  What  the 
deuce  do  you  care  what  I  said  about  Kaltenborn?"  he 
asked,  still  manoeuvring  around  the  humble-pie  at  hand 
for  him. 

"  I  do  care,"  said  she,  arbitrarily. 

"  Well,  I  did  n't  mean  anything,"  he  said,  "  and  I  take 
it  back,  if  that 's  all  you  want.  But  I  can't  for  the  life 
of  me  see  what  there  was  in  my  remarks  to  take  excep- 
tion to.  Here  !  There 's  a  brand-new  ivory  paper-knife 
that  a  supply  man  left  here  yesterday.  That  shall  be 
my  pipe  of  peace.  Trot  on,  now.  You  niight  kiss 
me,  though,  if  you  want  to,  just  to  show  there 's  no  ill- 
feeling." 

"  No,  I  don't  think  you  are  quite  penitent  enough 
yet,"  she  answered,  rising. 

"  You  will  —  before  the  morning  is  over,"  he  called 
after  her.  "  Not  a  word  now,  not  a  word  now  !  "  he  said, 
mysteriously,  as  she  paused.  '•  You  will  find  out  in 
time." 

She  stood  a  moment  longer,  and  then  walked  slowly 
back  to  his  chair,  and,  bending,  placed  her  cool  lips  upon 


The  Leaven  Works  233 

his  temple.  "  There,  —  if  you  are  so  sure  about  it !  " 
she  said. 

About  half-past  ten  Darlington  came  into  her  room  in 
a  great  hurry.  "  Get  on  your  hat  and  coat,  and  ask  no 
questions,"  he  said. 

She  did  so,  and  he  led  the  way  downstairs,  to  where 
two  carriages  stood.  Ruth  and  two  of  the  largest  stock- 
holders of  the  road  were  in  the  first  one  ;  Bert  and  Elsie 
Chfford  were  in  the  second.  Mr.  Darlington  helped 
Carol  into  the  latter,  and  then  got  into  the  other  one 
himself. 

"  What's  it  all  about,  Bert?  "  demanded  Carol. 

"The  new  compound-engine  came  in  on  16  last 
night,  and  is  in  the  round-house  now,"  he  answered. 

Carol's  eyes  lighted  with  pleasure,  and  she  gave  Elsie's 
hand  an  ecstatic  squeeze.  '^  But  why  can't  we  have  four 
people  in  our  carriage,  too  ?  "  she  asked.  "  This  looks 
selfish." 

'^  We  thought  we  'd  stop  at  the  hotel  on  the  way  down, 
and  get  Cash,"  said  Bert. 

"  Well,  we  won't  stop  there,"  said  Carol,  promptly. 
"  We  '11  drive  up  and  get  mamma,  instead.  Papa  !  "  she 
called  to  her  father,  who  was  driving  the  other  carriage, 
"  You  follow  us  !  We  're  going  after  mamma  first."  To 
herself  she  said,  "  Not  a  sacrifice,  but  thoughtfulness." 
Darlington,  though  he  called  back  something  to  Carol 
about  her  mothers  not  caring  for  such  things,  swung  his 
horses  about  and  prepared  to  follow  her. 

"Carol,  you'd  better  go  on  without  me,"  said  ]\Irs. 
Darlington,  doubtfully,  as  her  daughter  swept  into  the 
dining-room  and  stated  her  mission.  '^  I  have  so  much 
to  do  this  morning,  dear,  that  I  'm  afraid  I  have  n't  time." 
Take  time,"  said   Carol,  autocratically.      "  Get  on 


u 


2  34  The  Darlingtons 

your  hat !  That  dress  is  good  enough."  And  the 
mother,  protesting  that  she  did  not  know  the  first  thing 
about  a  locomotive,  was  forced  along  by  the  daughter. 

At  the  round-house  the  new  engine,  glossy  with  black 
paint  and  glittering  with  her  brass-work,  was  surrounded 
by  a  knot  of  admiring  engineers,  firemen,  and  shop- 
hands,  who  fell  back  respectfully  at  the  approach  of  the 
president's  party.  The  great  machine  was  truly  a  fasci- 
nating sight,  towering  high  above  their  heads,  with  its 
crushing  weight  of  iron  and  steel,  its  marvellous  capacity 
for  both  speed  and  power,  its  beneficence  in  its  appointed 
place,  its  appalling  destructiveness  when  out  of  that 
place. 

Charles  Darlington  nursed  the  mammoth,  motionless, 
bloodless  thing  in  his  eyes,  as  a  mother  might  her  child, 
and  laid  his  hand  affectionately  upon  one  of  the  cold 
drivers.  There  were  engineers  and  firemen  standing 
there  who  regarded  a  locomotive  as  little  less  than 
human.  They  loved  it  because  of  companionship  with  it 
in  sunshine  and  storm,  in  midnight  darkness  and  omni- 
present danger ;  they  boasted  of  its  strength,  and  spoke 
tenderly  of  its  weaknesses ;  they  humored  its  moods, 
jealously  refusing  one  day  to  push  it  too  hard,  the  next 
day  exultingly  giving  it  its  head,  and  encouraging  it  to 
do  its  best.  Some  were  there  who  could  hang  their 
heads  out  of  the  cab  window,  night  or  day,  and  above  all 
the  roar  of  that  mighty,  on-rushing  mass  detect  the 
rattle  of  a  loose  nut,  as  a  jockey  detects  the  first  sign  of 
fatigue  in  his  mount.  They  could,  in  the  same  position, 
and  by  the  sense  of  smell  alone,  detect  a  heated  bearing, 
and  thus  avert,  perhaps,  the  loss  of  life.  They  lived  in  an 
engine,  with  it,  and  for  it ;  watched  it  grow  old  and 
decrepit  and  out-of-date ;  and  at  last  saw  it  ground  to 


The  Leaven  Works  235 

pieces  in  a  wreck,  or,  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  saw  it 
hauled  away,  no  longer  proudly  heading  the  train,  to  be 
destroyed.  Yet  it  is  doubtful  if  one  of  these  men  had 
a  warmer  place  in  his  heart  for  the  beautiful,  symmetri- 
cal machine  now  before  them  than  had  Charles  Darling- 
ton.    For  he,  too,  had  ridden  in  the  cab. 

After  satisfying  their  eyes  with  mere  bulk  and  glitter, 
the  ladies  were  helped  up  into  the  cab,  where  Mr.  Dar- 
lington explained  to  them  the  use  of  every  attachment 
by  which  an  engineer  works  his  complicated  machine,  — 
gauges,  cocks,  levers,  handles,  valves,  in  bewildering  con- 
fusion. Mrs.  Darlington  was  thoroughly  happy.  The 
affectionate  respect  paid  her  family  by  the  employes  was 
sweet  to  her.  She  was  proud  of  her  husband's  knowl- 
edge, and  of  Carol's  quick  perception.  Bert's  quiet, 
manly  bearing,  the  care  he  took  of  Elsie,  and  the  unflag- 
ging interest  with  which  he  explained  the  mysteries  to 
her,  also  warmed  his  mother's  heart.  Even  Ruth's  keen 
inquisitiveness  was  not  unnoticed  by  her.  Carol  saw 
it  all,  and  it  doubled  the  happiness  of  the  occasion 
for  her. 

While  the  inspection  was  going  on,  old  Porter  Head- 
ley,  the  engineer  to  whom  the  new  locomotive  had  fallen 
by  right  of  seniority,  leaned  against  one  of  the  big  drive- 
wheels,  which  stood  three  inches  higher  than  his  head. 
He  was  plainly  doing  his  best  to  appear  calm,  even  indif- 
ferent ;  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  he  had  come  down  at  five 
o'clock  that  morning  to  see  his  new  "girl,"  and  had 
looked  her  over  a  dozen  times  since  from  tender  to  pilot. 
His  young  fireman  leaned  against  the  next  driver  with 
folded  arms,  in  a  rather  badly  done  imitation  of  his 
grizzled  chief. 

"Well,  Port,  what  do  you  think  of  her?"  asked  Mr. 


236  The  Darlingtons 

Darlington,  as  the  party  drew  together  for  a  kind  of 
summing  up. 

'^  Well,  sir,  from  what  I  've  seen  of  her,"  answered  old 
Headley,  casting  his  eyes  along  the  boiler,  as  though 
that  were  all  he  had  seen  of  her,  "  I  should  say  she  '11  do." 

'^  Do  you  see  ninety  miles  an  hour  anywhere  in  her?  " 

"  I  can  tell  you  better,  sir,  when  I  hear  her  pulse 
beat." 

"She'll  have  to  foot  it  at  that  rate,"  answered  the 
president,  "  if  you  ever  fall  behind  on  the  new  schedule. 
She  '11  have  to  make  sixty  regularly  between  stations, 
and  maybe  seventy.  Any  of  those  improvements  in  the 
cab  that  you  don't  understand?"  The  president  winked 
at  Carol. 

"  None  that  I  've  seen,"  answered  Headley,  impertur- 
bably.  ^ 

The  president  stepped  back  a  little  to  get  one  more 
comprehensive  view  of  the  engine,  and  shook  his  head 
admiringly.  Turning  to  a  portly  man,  one  of  the  direc- 
tors, he  said,  enthusiastically  :  "  Bowers,  I  wish  we  had 
a  machine  of  thirty  years  ago  to  set  beside  that,  just  to 
see  the  difference.  It  would  look  about  as  much  like 
that  as  a  hay-press.  Drive-rod  about  a  third  as  big  as 
that,  and  about  one-tenth  as  strong.  Look  at  that  boiler  ! 
A  family  could  live  in  there,  comfortably.  Those  old 
rattle-traps  had  a  boiler  about  the  size  of  a  flour  barrel, 
and  little  three-foot  drivers.  Then  some  smart  man 
figured  out  that  the  bigger  the  drive-wheel  was,  the  greater 
the  speed  would  be,  and  they  put  on  eight-foot  drivers, 
just  as  they  are  doing  in  Europe  to-day.  That  smart  man 
forgot,  though,  that  big  wheels  are  useless  without  steam, 
and  that  plenty  of  steam  will  make  a  comparatively  small 
wheel  revolve  fast  enough  to  satisfy  anybody  but  a  mad- 


The  Leaven  Works  237 

man.  Look  at  those  cylinders  !  That  machine,  Bowers,'' 
he  exclaimed,  pausing  impressively,  '^  is  one  of  the  noblest 
works  of  man  !  " 

"  And  one  of  the  most  expensive,"  suggested  Bowers, 
with  a  grin. 

"  Expensive  !  "  snorted  the  president.  "  Why,  man, 
nine  thousand  dollars  is  dirt  cheap  for  that.  Fifteen 
years  ago  you  could  n't  have  bought  the  steel  in  her  for 
that.  She  costs  a  little  more  than  the  old  style,  I  '11 
admit,  but  she  '11  save  it  in  fuel  in  a  year  or  two.  And 
if  we  want  to,  we  can  cut  our  schedule  from  Ashboro  to 
High  Point  to  two  hours.  And  if  we  do  it,  —  and  we 
wi//  when  the  road-bed  is  ballasted  up  a  little,  ■ —  we  '11 
scoop  every  through  passenger  for  the  South  that  now 
goes  by  the  M.  and  A.     What  would  you  say  to  that  ?  " 

"  One  hundred  and  two  miles  in  two  hours  ?  "  asked 
'%^^wers,  incredulously. 

"  Why  not  ?  The  road-bed  will  be  all  right,  with  a 
little  ballasting.  The  only  thing  I  'm  at  all  afraid  of  is 
the  rails.  Sixty-five-pound  rails  were  n't  meant  for 
exactly  that  kind  of  work,  I  '11  admit.  But  I  Ve  seen  it 
done  before.  I  have  done  it  myself.  I  did  it  down  in 
Georgia,  where  they  used  to  run  trains  so  slow  that  the 
Georgia  crackers  could  n't  get  their  mules  killed  by  'em, 
and  consequently  quit  raising  mules.  The  train  I  put 
on  killed  seven  of  them  the  first  run,  in  three  hundred 
miles,  and  gave  the  stock-raising  industry  of  that  section 
a  boom  it  never  had  before  —  and  never  will  have  again, 
I  reckon." 

"  The  last  time  you  told  that  story,  papa,  it  was  five 
mules,"  said  Carol,  laughing. 

"  Mules  are  going  up,"  retorted  her  father,  instantly. 

"I  '11  tell  you,  Charlie,"  said  Bowers.     "I  like  to  see 


238  The  Darlingtons 

home  industries  encouraged ;  but  if  you  are  putting  on 
nine-thousand-dollar  engines  and  ballasting  road-beds 
to  give  the  stock-raising  interests  of  this  section  a  Hft, 
I  think  I  '11  sell  my  railroad  stock  and  buy  a  farm." 
He  grinned  on  the  crowd,  but  Carol,  who  knew  the 
opposition  her  father  had  met  in  putting  through  his 
pet  scheme  of  a  fast  train,  suspected  the  director  was 
more  than  half  in  earnest.  Evidently,  Darlington  thought 
so  too,  for  he  said,  shortly,  — 

"Don't  you  be  in  a  hurry  about  that  farm.  I've 
known  men  to  get  scared  before,  and  sell  out  when  a 
few  improvements  were  in  sight,  and  I  Ve  noticed  that 
they  always  bought  back  —  at  a  sharp  advance.'' 

Bert  and  Elsie  were  standing  a  little  apart.  Elsie's 
big  brown  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  towering  locomotive 
in  almost  childlike  wonder. 

"'  What  makes  you  so  quiet,  sweetheart  ? "  asked 
Bert,  in  a  low  tone. 

"I  am  awed,''  she  murmured,  with  an  affectionate 
smile.  ''  I  never  was  so  close  to  an  engine  before. 
There  is  something  grand  and  impressive  about  the 
thought  that  man,  little  man,  built  that  great  machine 
that  can  run  ninety  miles  an  hour,  and  pull,  your  father 
says,  fifty  times  its  own  weight.  It 's  so  motionless  and 
so  cold  now  !  Just  to  think  that  a  little  fire  and  a  little 
water  will  hurl  that  vast  bulk,  with  all  its  load  of  human 
freight,  through  the  country  at  that  terrible  speed." 

"  It  is  an  inspiring  thought,"  said  Bert,  tenderly. 

"  I  'm  proud  of  you,"  she  added,  still  more  softly. 
"  Proud  to  think  that  you  have  something  to  do  with  it 
all.  Its  vast  strength  is  to  be  spent  in  your  service ; 
and  you  hire  these  men  and  pay  them  and  enable  them 
to  live  in  comfort,  and  you  look  after  their  famiHes  if 


The  Leaven  Works  239 

they  are  hurt  or  killed.  You  make  the  time-tables,  and 
hire  the  despatchers  that  handle  the  trains,  and  make 
the  freight  rates  —  " 

'^1  publish  them,  Elsie."  He  smiled.  "They  have  a 
habit  of  making  themselves." 

'•  Well,  it 's  a  great  responsibility,  anyhow,"  she  re- 
turned. "  And  you  ought  to  feel  very,  very  serious 
about  it." 

*'  I  do,"  he  said,  squarely  meeting  her  glance. 

It  was  decided,  to  old  Headley's  palpable  disappoint- 
ment, that  the  new  engine  should  not  be  tested  until  the 
president's  private  car,  then  undergoing  repairs,  should 
be  completed,  which  would  not  be  for  ten  days  or  more. 
Mr.  Darlington  said  he  would  then  give  a  "  speed " 
party,  and  do  the  thing  up  right.  "  And  I  would  advise 
all  people  with  bad  nerves  to  send  their  regrets,"  he 
added,  significantly. 

"I  move,"  said  a  director,  with  a  smile  at  Carol,  "in- 
asmuch as  it  will  be  the  first  trip  of  the  engine,  and 
inasmuch  as  she  will  doubtless  haul  some  of  the  most 
distinguished  citizens  of  Ashboro,  that  Miss  Carol 
Darhngton  be  allowed  to  turn  the  first  steam  into 
the  cylinders  and  to  handle  the  throttle  for  the  first 
mile." 

"  I  second  that  motion,"  said  Elsie  Clifford,  at  once. 

"  Before  the  motion  goes  to  a  vote,  I  must  decline 
the  honor,  with  sincere  regret,"  spoke  up  Carol.  "  Much 
as  I  should  prize  the  honor,  I  believe  there  is  another 
who  would  prize  it  more ;  and  much  as  I  should  love 
to  breathe  the  first  breath  of  life  into  this  noble  machine 
here,  there  is  another  who  would  love  it  still  more. 
Ladies  and  gentlemen,  the  honor  belongs  to  Mr.  Porter 
Headley  —  known   more   familiarly,  the   length  of  the 


240  The  Darlingtons 

road,  as  ^old  Port'  —  and  I  therefore  suggest  that  his 
name  be  substituted  for  mine." 

"No,  no!  No,  Miss  Darlington,"  stammered  old 
Port,  his  affectation  summarily  knocked  out  of  him  by 
this  unexpected  act. 

"Yes,  yes  !  I  insist!  "  cried  Carol,  and  her  sugges- 
tion was  carried,  to  the  complete  annihilation  of  what 
litde  stoicism  old  Port  had  left. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

A   DANGEROUS    PRESCRIPTION 

Kaltenborn  sat  in  his  study  awaiting  the  assembling 
of  the  official  board  of  his  church.  He  was  low-spirited 
and  unhappy.  The  afternoon  had  been  spent  in  visit- 
ing the  abject  poor.  He  had  gone  from  one  squahd 
hovel  to  another,  his  nose  filled  with  unwholesome 
odors,  and  his  ears  assailed  with  the  cries  of  fretful 
babies,  the  whinings  of  peevish,  sickly  women,  and  the 
complaints  of  their  shiftless  husbands.  There  were  not 
many  such  homes  in  Ashboro,  fortunately,  but  such  as 
there  were  seemed  to  fall  mostly  to  Kaltenborn's  lot. 
To-day  he  had  done  the  best  he  knew.  He  had 
spoken  words  of  comfort  to  a  mother  whose  worthless 
son  had  been  gone  two  days,  she  knew  not  where. 
To  one  family  he  had  promised  food ;  to  another,  fuel ; 
and  clothes  to  a  third.  He  had  patched  up,  as  well  as 
such  things  can  be  patched,  a  quarrel  between  two 
families  over  the  division  line  between  their  back  yards, 
the  fence  having  long  since  been  used  as  fire-wood. 
He  had  explained  to  one  perturbed  sister  the  meaning 
of  a  sentence  in  his  last  Sunday's  sermon,  and  had 
quoted  authority  to  convince  her  that  his  teaching  was 
strictly  orthodox.  He  had  sharply  rebuked  for  his  idle- 
ness a  lazy  lout  to  whom  three  children  and  a  wife 
looked  for  bread.     After  all  this,  he  had  called  upon  the 

i6 


242  The  Darlingtons 


church  treasurer,  to  see  if  any  money  had  been  turned 
in  to  be  applied  to  the  large  and  growing  deficit  in  his 
salary.  The  treasurer  was  apologetic  and  hopeful,  but 
bankrupt. 

Yet  all  this  alone  would  not  have  served  to  depress 
Kaltenborn,  for  he  was  hardened  to  it.  But  there  were 
divisions  in  the  church.  Two  or  three  of  the  oldest 
members  —  and  the  best-paying  ones  as  well  —  had 
taken  offence  at  Kaltenborn's  doctrine,  and  were  syste- 
matically absenting  themselves  from  services.  Another 
and  larger  faction  —  though  none  of  these  had  either 
withdrawn  or  threatened  to  do  so  —  complained  that  his 
preaching  was  above  their  heads. 

Kaltenborn  knew  that  his  sermons  were  pitched  high 
intellectually,  and  he  knew  that  his  ideas  were  advanced. 
Hence  the  opposition  of  the  conservatives  and  the 
dissatisfaction  of  the  fat-witted  were  perfectly  intelligible. 
But  the  problem  remained  how  to  preach  as  he  had 
before  —  this  he  was  determined  to  do  —  and  yet  reclaim 
the  allegiance  of  the  malcontents.  In  his  trouble  it  was 
a  source  of  strength  and  consolation  to  know  that  the 
younger  members  of  the  church  were  with  him  as  a  unit 
almost.  After  all,  they  were  the  ones  he  was  preaching 
for  and  working  for.  The  grayheads  were  past  remould- 
ing, for  the  suns  of  many  summers  and  the  frosts  of 
many  winters  had  set  them  hard  and  dry. 

The  official  board  had  been  convened  this  evening 
to  discuss  the  advisability  of  calling  an  evangelist. 
Or,  rather,  the  board  had  convened  itself,  for  Kalten- 
born was  opposed  to  the  project.  The  methods  of 
the  ordinary  evangelist  were  exceedingly  distasteful  to 
him.  The  evangelist's  ranting,  his  crudity  of  speech, 
his  appeals  to  the  emotions,  his  lurid  pictures  of  hell, 


A  Dangerous  Prescription        243 

his  melodramatic  and  harassing  accounts  of  wicked- 
ness, his  marvellous  tales  of  conversion  —  all  these  Kal- 
tenborn  despised.  Consequently,  he  had  done  all  he 
could,  in  a  quiet  way,  to  discourage  the  idea  of  calling 
an  evangelist.  His  efforts  had  been  in  vain,  though,  and 
he  knew  to-night,  before  a  single  member  of  the  official 
board  entered  his  study,  that  an  evangelist  would  be 
called. 

This  thought  also  added  to  his  loneliness  and  to  the 
sense  of  ingratitude  and  injustice  under  which  he 
smarted.  As  he  meditated  on  the  sacrifices  he  had 
made  to  preach,  on  the  loftiness  of  purpose  with  which 
he  had  come  to  this  church,  on  the  zeal  with  which  he 
had  been  fired,  and  then  thought  of  the  results,  of  the 
narrowness  and  bigotry  with  which  he  had  been  assailed 
from  different  quarters,  he  reached  the  dregs  of  his 
bitter  cup. 

In  this  crucial  moment,  when  life  seemed  a  failure 
and  all  his  sacrifices  vanity,  a  sweet,  strong,  sympa- 
thetic, womanly  face  floated  across  his  mental  vision, 
and  smiled  at  him  encouragingly.  It  was  Carol  Dar- 
Hngton's  face  —  ethereahzed  and  spiritualized,  but  hers 
just  the  same.  The  phantom  thrilled  him,  in  that  sus- 
ceptible moment,  with  a  bewildering  joy,  —  so  bewilder- 
ing that  he  suspected  its  legitimacy.  But  casting  his 
scruples  aside,  he  put  behind  him  the  stern  reahties  of 
the  hour,  and  relinquished  himself  to  his  seductive 
fancy. 

Between  his  mental  eye  and  the  squalid  homes  of 
Railroad  Street  were  interposed  the  luxurious  warmth 
and  glow  of  that  big  house  on  the  brow  of  the  hill. 
The  poor,  stooped,  angular,  hollow-chested  women  of 
the  afternoon  faded  away  like  an  ugly  dream,  and  in 


244  'The  Darlingtons 

their  place  stood  one  of  supple,  softly  rounded  figure, 
showing  the  graceful  lines  of  young  womanhood,  and 
elastic  with  life,  health,  and  happiness.  Her  low, 
vibrant  laughter  soothed  his  ears ;  her  glorious  eyes, 
so  worldly-shrewd  yet  so  deep  and  tender,  beamed 
upon  him  their  mischief,  humor,  joy,  soHcitude,  and  — 
in  this  fanciful  moment  —  a  something  else  that  clutched 
his  heart  like  an  iron  hand.     Then  the  door-bell  rang. 

It  was  a  trustee.  The  rest  came  singly  or  by  twos 
and  threes.  The  early  ones  waited  for  the  later  ones 
in  ominous  silence.  By  half-past  seven  all  were  present, 
for  some  of  them  lived  in  the  country,  and  wanted 
an  early  session.  Kaltenborn,  chairman  ex  officio,  called 
the  meeting  to  order,  though  it  was  already  as  orderly 
as  a  group  of  statues.  The  others  arose  one  by  one 
and  set  forth  their  opinions.  Their  unanimity  was 
striking.  The  church  had  not  had  an  evangelist  for 
several  years,  they  said  ;  a  lack  of  spirituality  was  lament- 
ably evident,  especially  among  the  young.  Without  re- 
flecting on  their  pastor,  who  was  working  according  to 
his  light,  the  church  needed  stirring  up.  An  attraction 
was  needed  which  would  bring  outsiders  within  reach 
of  the  Word.  The  insiders  themselves  needed  the 
Gospel,  ''the  good  old-fashioned  Gospel,"  as  Trustee 
Hackett  put  it,  "writ  in  the  Holy  Scriptures."  The 
Gospel  was  good  enough  for  his  father  and  for  him,  and 
ought  to  be  good  enough  for  his  children.  A  httle  fire- 
and-brimstone  was  not  a  bad  thing,  now  and  then, 
another  brother  said.  Without  complaining,  he  did  n't 
think  Brother  Kaltenborn  gave  the  people  enough  Hell, 
A  httle  of  that  would  often  do  more  than  a  great  deal  of 
Heaven.     It  was  like  salt  in  the  cattle's  fodder. 

Kaltenborn  had  prepared  himself  for  a  vigorous  oppo- 


A  Dangerous  Prescription        245 

sition ;  but  at  the  last  moment  the  futihty,  as  well  as 
the  impolicy,  of  such  a  course  was  too  apparent.  When 
his  turn  came,  therefore,  he  rose  and  stated  that  he 
could  not  agree  with  much  of  what  had  been  said. 
But  if,  in  its  collective  wisdom,  the  Board  saw  fit  to  call 
an  evangelist,  he  would  graciously  submit  to  its  judg- 
ment, and  take  steps  at  once  toward  securing  a  good 
man.  His  acquiescence  evidently  took  the  others  by 
surprise.  It  just  as  evidently  also  created  a  better  feel- 
ing toward  him.  The  trustees  promptly  agreed  to  leave 
the  matter  entirely  in  Kaltenborn's  hands  ;  and  by  a  httle 
after  eight  o'clock  the  last  one  of  them  had  gone. 

Kaltenborn  looked  at  his  watch,  then  at  his  books, 
and  then  at  his  sermon.  He  had  called  on  Carol  only 
a  few  nights  before,  and  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  call- 
ing on  her  oftener  than  once  a  week  or  once  in  ten 
days.  After  a  little  thought,  though,  he  abruptly  rose, 
put  on  his  overcoat,  and  walked  out.  His  hand  was  yet 
on  the  door-knob  when  ]\Irs.  Hicks  called  sharply,  — 

"  If  anybody  comes  and  asks  where  you  air,  Mr. 
Kaltenborn,  what  shall  I  tell  'em  ?  " 

"  That  you  don't  know,"  he  answered,  grimly. 

As  he  walked  along  he  called  to  mind,  with  the 
incredulity  with  which  one  recalls  a  harsh  or  unkind 
deed  of  one's  own,  that  he  had  half  promised  himself 
the  night  before  to  wean  himself  from  Carol  Darhngton. 
To-night  the  thought  was  monstrous  to  him,  and  he 
put  it  away  with  a  fierceness  worthy  of  one  of  his 
Viking  ancestors. 

Carol  was  out,  attending  a  directors'  meeting,  Mrs. 
Darlington  said.  ''But  you  must  wait  for  her,"  she 
added  hospitably.  "They  expected  to  be  home  by 
eight  o'clock.     The  meeting  was  called  early,  on  ac- 


246  The  Darlingtons 

count  of  the  concert,  you  know,  though  Carol  herself 
is  n't  going ;  and  as  she  will  be  left  alone,  I  have  no 
doubt  she  will  be  doubly  glad  to  see  you.  I  can't 
imagine  what  keeps  them." 

Kaltenborn  waited,  gladly  enough,  until  Carol  came, 
with  her  father  and  brother.  iVll  three  were  in  prime 
spirits.  Carol's  face  was  flushed  with  merriment,  and 
she  tugged  at  her  gloves  in  a  listless,  relaxed  way,  as 
though  she  had  laughed  herself  tired. 

"  Mr.  Kaltenborn,  we  have  just  come  from  a  directors' 
meeting,  which  explains  our  levity,"  said  Carol,  giving 
him  her  hand,  with  her  glove  half  off.  '^  They  are 
always  worth  the  price  of  admission  to  a  comedy,  but 
to-night  was  especially  good.  I  must  tell  you  about  it 
—  if  you  will  never  tell.  The  new  engine  was  the 
cause  of  it  all.  You  have  read  about  that  compound- 
engine,  of  course,  in  the  paper.  Papa  had  a  very  nice 
article  in  it  —  modern  improvements,  progressive  railroad 
president,  and  all  that."  She  looked  at  her  father  with 
teasing  eyes,  and  then,  her  mind  evidently  reverting 
to  the  directors'  meeting,  she  gave  another  little  shriek 
of  laughter. 

"Well,  tell  your  story,"  said  Darlington,  smiling 
broadly  himself. 

"  First,  though,"  Carol  continued,  "  I  want  to  tell  Mr. 
Kaltenborn  that  he  is  herewith  invited  to  take  a  ride 
in  the  president's  new  private  car,  behind  our  new 
engine,  next  Thursday,  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
Dinner  will  be  served,  and  you  must  lay  your  plans 
to  be  gone  at  least  six  hours." 

"  I  thank  you  very  much,"  said  Kaltenborn. 

"  I  join  her  in  that  invitation,  Mr.  Kaltenborn,"  said 
Darlington,      He  added  humorously,   "A  preacher   is 


A  Dangerous  Prescription        247 

about  as  handy  a  man  on  such  an  occasion  as  a  good 
surgeon." 

"  Papa  has  such  a  dehcate  way  of  setting  forth  to  his 
guests  the  pleasures  of  an  affair  Hke  this,"  observed 
Carol,  ironically. 

"  Go  on  about  the  engine,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Darling- 
ton.    "  We  must  be  going." 

"  Well,  it  seems  that  papa  gave  some  of  the  directors 
the  idea  that  the  engine  would  cost  only  about  eight 
thousand  dollars,  whereas  —  " 

'•I  didn't  give  them  the  idea  at  all,-'  interrupted 
Darlington,  emphatically.  "  I  told  old  Whitesides,  in 
plain  English,  that  it  would  cost  between  eight  and 
nine  thousand." 

''  Anyhow,  Mr.  Whitesides  got  eight  thousand  into 
his  head,"  continued  Carol,  jauntily,  '^  and  when  papa 
handed  in  an  invoice  to-night  amounting  to  $9,129.52, 
there  was  quite  a  commotion  in  Mr.  Whitesides's 
neighborhood." 

"That  man  is  as  complete  an  ass  as  I  ever  saw," 
broke  in  Darlington,  in  disgust. 

"  He  insinuated  as  much  about  papa,"  Carol  went 
on  keenly.  "  He  said  he  had  been  overridden  long 
enough ;  that  buying  such  an  engine  was  a  shameful 
waste  of  monev,  and  moreover  ridiculous  in  a  road 
the  size  of  ours,  and  that  the  H.  P.,  R.,  A.,  and  S.,  just 
on  that  account,  was  the  laughing-stock  of  half  the 
railroad  officials  in  the  country.  Then  papa  arose, 
perfectly  cool  and  calm,"  —  she  gave  her  auditors  a 
roguish  glance,  —  '•  and  he  and  Mr.  Whitesides  pranced 
back  and  forth  for  twenty  minutes  like  two  bears  in 
a  pen,  until  finally  papa  suggested  that  if  Mr.  White- 
sides's stock  did  not  pay  him  as  good  a  rate  of  interest 


248  The  Darlingtons 

as  he  could  get  elsewhere,  he  could  easily  find  a  pur- 
chaser for  it." 

"  I  hoped  to  egg  him  on  to  say  he  wanted  to  sell/' 
explained  Darlington.  ^'  I  'd  have  made  him  an  offer 
in  a  minute.  I  'd  hke  to  get  him  out,  anyway.  He  's 
a  millstone  around  everybody's  neck." 

^'  They  kept  this  up,"  Carol  resumed,  addressing 
Kaltenborn  and  her  mother,  "  until  positively  every- 
body was  roaring  with  laughter.  It  was  simply  too 
ridiculous  !  "  Her  voice  caught  in  another  convulsive 
laugh,  giving  her  pause,  while  her  father  looked  his 
dissent  of  the  thing's  having  been  ridiculous,  but  said 
nothing.  "  Whitesides  said  that  running  one  hundred 
miles  of  railroad  was  not  the  biggest  job  on  earth, 
though  some  people  seemed  to  think  so.  Papa  said 
Whitesides  would  think  so,  too,  if  he  ever  tried  it. 
Whitesides  got  back  by  saying  that  he  hated  to  be  tied 
to  a  one-man  concern ;  and  papa  said,  very  sarcasti- 
cally, that  it  made  all  the  difference  in  the  world  who 
the  man  was ;  that  he  himself  would  hate  to  be  tied  to 
some  one-man  concerns,  looking  hard  at  Whitesides." 

"  I  did  n't ! "    said  Darlington,  laughing. 

^^  Whitesides  retorted  by  saying  that  he  hated  to  see 
dividends  cut  down  and  good  money  squandered  to 
carry  out  a  lot  of  pet  schemes  that  had  nothing  but 
show  and  tinsel  to  them,"  Carol  ran  on.  "  Then  papa 
asked  him  again  why  he  didn't  sell  his  stock,  if  divi- 
dends on  it  were  so  reduced." 

*^I  was  a  fool  to  argue  with  him,"  commented  the 
president,  briefly. 

"  If  you  could  call  it  arguing,"  said  Carol,  slyly. 
^'But  on  the  whole,  papa  behaved  so  courageously 
and  so  temperately  —  for  him  —  that  I  took  him  down- 


A  Dangerous  Prescription       249 

town  and  bought  him  a  box  of  cigars."  She  glanced 
at  a  rectangular  package  on  the  table. 

"  That 's  what  kept  them  !  "  smiled  Mrs.  Darlington 
at  Kaltenborn. 

"  You  will  notice,  Mr.  Kaltenborn,"  observed  Darling- 
ton, jocosely,  "that  I  went  along  to  help  her  select  the 
brand.  It's  a  precaution  that  married  hfe  has  taught 
me." 

After  the  others  had  gone,  Carol  settled  down  in  her 
chair,  with  a  cozy  "  How  are  you  to-night?  " 

"  I  don't  feel  so  good,"  answered  Kaltenborn. 

"  You  don't  look  so  good,  either.  You  look  tired. 
What  you  need  is  a  conscientious,  disinterested  woman 
—  something  like  myself —  to  diagnose  you  now  and 
then,  and  prescribe  for  you.  Now,  to-night  you  are 
plainly  disturbed  about  something.  To  overcome  that 
condition,  I  prescribe  one  —  "  Withholding  the  word, 
she  rose,  with  a  significant  expression,  tore  the  wrapping 
off  the  box  on  the  table,  and  with  some  difficulty  pulled 
the  lid  up.  " — cigarf''  she  concluded,  holding  the 
rich,  black  Havana  up  between  thumb  and  finger.  Her 
eyes  flashed  him  a  challenge. 

"Do  you  mean  it?"  asked  Kaltenborn. 

"  Certainly  I  mean  it,"  she  said.  "  Did  n't  you  tell 
me  that  you  used  to  smoke  ?  " 

"  I  also  told  you  I  had  stopped." 

"And  you  also  admitted  that  you  enjoyed  it  just  as 
much  as  ever,"  she  retorted.  '•  Here  's  a  match.  I  '11 
strike  it  for  you." 

"No,  don't,"  he  said,  wistfully.  ^^I  must  not 
smoke  it." 

"  But  I  want  you  to  !  "  she  exclaimed,  imperiously. 

"No." 


250  The  Darlingtons 


"  Please  !  " 

"  No." 

*'  I  shall  be  very  angry  if  you  don't/'  she  threatened. 

*'  I  can't  help  it/'  he  answered,  laughing  slightly. 

"  What  are  you  afraid  of?"  she  asked,  pausing  in  her 
onslaught. 

"  Nothing,  except  the  witchcraft  of  a  beautiful  woman." 

"  Do  you  think  it  would  be  wrong  to  smoke  that 
cigar?"  she  demanded,  evading  his  comphment. 

"  Not  in  itself." 

"  Do  you  think  it  would  set  anybody  a  bad  example 
—  me,  for  instance  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Then  why  would  it  be  wrong  ?  " 

"  Because  you  would  think  less  of  me  for  it/'  he 
answered,  seriously. 

''Would  you  call  that  a  wrong?"  she  asked,  signifi- 
cantly, after  a  pause. 

''  I  should." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  to  have  you  think  less  of  me  would  do  me 
great  injury.  It  would  impair  my  power  for  usefulness," 
he  answered,  steadily. 

Again  Carol  paused  thoughtfully,  her  eyes  darkling 
with  excitement  of  some  kind.  ''  I  can't  pass  over 
praise  of  that  depth  and  sincerity,"  she  finally  answered, 
candidly.  "  I  believe  you,  and  I  feel  myself  honored. 
But  you  were  never  more  mistaken  in  your  life,  IMr. 
Kaltenborn,  than  in  supposing  that  I  would  think  less 
of  you  for  smoking  that  cigar.  Why  should  I  ?  I  know 
you  don't  number  me  with  those  people  who  think  a 
preacher  ought  to  be  denied  the  good  things  of  life, 
just  because  he  is  a  preacher.     And  you  certainly  don't 


A  Dangerous  Prescription        251 

believe  that  I  see  anything  intrinsically  wrong  in  smok- 
ing, when  my  father  and  brother  both  smoke.  And 
you  can't  think  that  I  am  trying  to  —  to  test  your 
strength,  or  anything  like  that.  Do  you?  "  she  asked, 
abruptly,  as  though  it  might  be  possible. 

"  I  could  n't  think  that,"  he  answered. 

"  Because  I  simply  have  a  curiosity  to  see  how  you 
would  look  in  the  place  of  other  men.  I  want  to  see 
how  you  would  look  at  the  end  of  a  cigar,  as  I  heard  a 
reformer  facetiously  put  it  once,"  sne  added,  more 
lightly.  '^  Papa  and  Bert  look  so  comfortable  and 
oblivious  to  care  when  they  are  smoking,  that  I  won- 
dered if  you  would  too.  I  simply  can't  imagine  you 
rolling  a  cigar  between  your  teeth,"  she  continued, 
laughing,  "  and  squinting  your  eyes  to  keep  the  smoke 
out,  and  sending  a  puff  half-way  to  the  ceiling.  Can 
you  do  it?  I  don't  believe  you  can.  Please  show  me. 
How  can  you  refuse,  when  I  beg  in  this  way?"  she 
asked,  with  arch  chiding. 

"  Because  I  know  it  is  best." 

"  Then  you  are  a  crank,  after  all ! "  she  exclaimed, 
dropping  her  outstretched  hand.  "  Just  as  much  as 
any  of  them,  at  heart."  She  might  have  been  jesting, 
but  she  was  not  at  all  surprised,  nevertheless,  to  see  an 
ominous  light  come  into  his  eyes. 

"  If  by  a  crank  you  mean  a  man  who  will  defend  the 
dignity  of  his  office  against  the  whim  of  a  woman,  I  am 
one,"  he  answered,  dryly.  "  If  you  mean  the  slave  of 
a  prejudice,  I  am  not  one  —  as  I  shall  show  you." 

Before  she  quite  realized  his  purpose,  he  had  taken 
the  cigar  from  her  fingers,  and  bitten  off  its  end.  Then 
recovering  herself,  she  exclaimed,  indignantly,  "  Do 
you   suppose    I   would  allow  you  to  smoke  it  now  ? " 


252  The  Darlingtons 

And  forgetting  herself  momentarily,  she  reached  for 
the  cigar. 

He  quietly  intercepted  her  hand ;  and,  taking  hold 
of  her  wrist,  easily  held  her  off.  "  Would  you  use 
force?"  he  asked  in  surprise.  She  at  once  withdrew 
her  hand,  and  sat  down  stiffly.  Kaltenborn  lit  the 
cigar,  tossed  the  match  into  the  grate,  and  silently 
smoked,  without  vouchsafing  her  a  glance. 

She  was  sorry,  but  also  hurt,  and  a  little  bewildered. 
It  was  hard  for  her  to  realize,  too,  that  she  had  been 
handled  in  this  rough,  arbitrary  manner.  She  watched 
him  with  steady,  disapproving  eyes,  and  once  her  lips 
curled  scornfully.  He  smoked  on,  and  though  he  did 
not  roll  his  cigar  or  squint  his  eyes  or  blow  smoke  ceil- 
ingward,  after  the  manner  of  the  Darlingtons,  father  and 
son,  yet  he  certainly  looked  oblivious  enough. 

"Mr.  Kaltenborn,  you  must  apologize  for  the  tone 
you  used  to  me,"  she  said,  in  a  firm  voice,  but  she 
trembled  to  her  knees. 

"  Miss  DarHngton,  if  I  thought  I  had  been  rude  to 
you,  I  should  apologize  willingly,"  he  answered,  rising. 
"But  I  cannot  apologize  for  words  or  tones  that  I 
thought,  and  still  think,  justified  by  your  remark." 

"  Do  you  refuse  ?  "  she  asked,  faltering. 

"  I  refuse,"  he  answered,  respectfully. 

The  blood  slowly  ran  out  of  Carol's  face  until  it 
was  as  white  as  marble.  "  Do  you  know  what  that 
means?"   she  asked,  in  a  voice  that  distinctly  trembled. 

"Yes.  It  means  that  our  intercourse  must  cease," 
he  answered,  bluntly. 

He  stood  with  his  hand  on  the  back  of  his  chair,  ap- 
parently as  hard  and  insensible  as  a  man  of  stone.  In 
reality,  his  heart  was  aching.     He  knew  she  felt  hurt, 


A  Dangerous  Prescription        253 

and  that  she  believed  an  apology  due  her.  Yet  it  had 
been  refused,  and  now  the  alternative  faced  her  of  dis- 
missing him  or  of  abdicating  her  rights.  He  suspected 
that  dismissing  him  meant  something  to  her,  and  he 
could  not  but  sympathize  with  her  in  her  trying  posi- 
tion. Still,  he  believed  that  he  was  right,  and  his  ruthless 
conscience  was  fully  aroused.  He  did  not  know  why 
he  stood  there  so  long.  He  did  not  want  to  see  her 
surrender,  and  he  could  not  himself  surrender.  Yet 
something  that  rode  down  his  reason  as  the  north  wind 
rides  down  the  zephyr  held  him  fast. 

"  Good-bye  ! "  he  said  at  last,  but  made  no  move  to  go. 

She  did  not  answer  or  lift  her  eyes. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  repeated,  shifting  his  position. 

She  lifted  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  and  held  it 
there.     The  movement  touched  him. 

"  Miss  Darlington,"  he  began,  in  a  voice  that  vibrated 
with  feeling,  "  if  you  think  that  I,  for  the  sake  of  grati- 
fying a  wounded  pride,  or  for  the  sake  of  displaying  a 
theatrical  firmness,  can  give  up  our  friendship,  you  are 
doing  me  an  injustice.  If  you  think  that  I  spoke  to 
you  without  respect,  you  are  mistaken.  Yet  your  words 
were  sharp,  very  sharp." 

"Then  I  beg  your  forgiveness,"  she  murmured. 

*'  You  have  that  already, "  he  answered.  ''  And  if  I 
have  wounded  you,  I  will  say  that  nothing  was  further 
from  my  thoughts,  and  that  I  am  very,  very  sorry,  and 
I  beg  _)'(?///- forgiveness." 

"  I  forgive  you  —  with  all  my  heart,"  she  murmured 
again.  He  lingered  a  moment,  as  if  uncertain  of  his 
next  move,  and  she  said,  "  Sit  down."  When  she  had 
touched  away  the  last  of  her  tears,  she  lifted  her  face, 
and  gave  him  a  confused  glance. 


254  The  Darlingtons 

"  I  am  so  sorry,  Mr.  Kaltenborn,"  she  began,  remorse- 
fully. "  Such  a  scene  might  better  have  taken  place  in 
the  kitchen,  and  it  was  my  fault." 

Kaltenborn  flushed,  and  answered  gravely,  "  It  takes 
two  to  make  a  quarrel.'' 

"  Oh,  we  did  n't  quarrel  I  "  she  exclaimed,  recoihng 
slightly. 

"  That 's  what  it  would  have  been  called  in  the 
kitchen,"  he  returned.  "  Perhaps  it  was  not  quite  that 
bad." 

"  It  was  bad  enough,  anyhow,"  she  answered  ruefully. 
"  But  we  '11  forget  it ;  we  '11  never  speak  of  it  again,  and 
—  I  '11  never  ask  you  to  smoke  again." 

"  And  I  '11  never  smoke  again,"  he  said,  emphati- 
cally.    "  It  was  a  piece  of  bravado  worthy  of  a  boy." 

"  I  did  n't  think  a  little  thing  like  a  cigar  could  cause 
so  much  trouble  —  outside  of  the  nursery,"  she  con- 
tinued, now  smihng  a  little. 

"  It 's  the  little  things  that  cause  most  of  the  trouble," 
answered  Kaltenborn.  "  But,  a  cigar  or  a  kingdom,  it 
would  have  been  the  same.     The  cigar  merely  started 


usr 


She  was  silent  for  a  little,  looking  abstractedly  into 
the  fire.  A  trace  of  mist  was  still  in  her  eyes,  giving 
her  a  subdued,  tender  appearance. 

"  Suppose  you  had  gone  away  angry,  Mr.  Kalten- 
born," she  said  at  last,  frankly  meeting  his  eye.  ''  It 's 
a  terrible  thing  to  destroy  a  friendship.  I  think  a  friend- 
ship is  the  sacredest  thing  on  earth.  When  I  think 
of  all  the  good  we  might  do  each  other ;  and  how 
we  might  sometime,  just  by  our  influence,  save  each 
other  from  some  false  step  ;  and  then  think  of  our 
going  through  hfe  —  through   ii/e,  till  we  die,  without 


A  Dangerous  Prescription        255 

seeing  each  other  again,  all  because  of  that  miserable 
cigar,  it  almost  unnerves  me." 

He  smiled  sympathetically  into  her  glistening  eyes. 
''  I  am  glad  you  can  feel  so  deeply  on  the  subject. 
But  we  have  stood  the  test,  and  if  our  friendship  is  ever 
dissolved,  it  will  be  by  something  greater  than  a  cigar, 
or  the  pride  or  anger  that  a  cigar  can  provoke." 

"  What  do  you  mean  }  "  she  asked,  uneasily. 

"  Oh,  nothing  in  particular,"  he  answered,  rather 
hastily.  "  Only,  if  anything  ever  should  arise  to  sep- 
arate us,  we  could  always  think  of  each  other  kindly, 
and  make  the  recollection  of  our  friendship  serve  us 
instead." 

"  But  what  could  separate  us  ? "  she  asked,  still  dis- 
satisfied. 

He  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then  answered,  "  My 
leaving  Ashboro,  for  one  thing." 

She  looked  at  him  sharply,  as  though  questioning  his 
candor,  but  finally  accepted  his  explanation. 

When  Carol  reached  her  room,  she  found  herself  in  a 
tremulous  condition.  Her  muscles  twitched,  flashes  of 
heat  passed  over  her  face,  and  her  pulse  throbbed  in 
her  ears.  These  purely  physical  phenomena  bewil- 
dered her  not  a  httle,  and  frightened  her  somewhat. 
She  feared  she  was  going  to  be  sick.  A  glance  in 
the  glass  showed  her  a  pair  of  intensely  bright  eyes 
and  deeply  flushed  cheeks.  That  all  this  had  any 
connection  with  the  scene  downstairs,  she  at  first 
had  not  the  remotest  suspicion ;  and  when  the  truth 
flashed  over  her,  she  gave  a  little  gasp,  and  sank  down 
into  a  chair  confounded.  Then,  in  her  relief,  she 
emitted  a  little  hysterical  laugh,  and  exclaimed  aloud, 
"  Why,  you  absurd,  ridiculous  creature !  "     She  quickly 


256  The  Darlingtons 

arose  and  looked  into  the  glass  again,  this  time  with  a 
flush  the  source  of  which  she  well  knew.  The  beautiful 
image  in  the  glass  seemed  to  smile  at  her  first,  so  she 
smiled  back,  with  a  strange  joyousness,  and  leaned  for- 
ward and  kissed  the  phantom's  red  lips.  The  act  left  a 
little  vaporous  trace  upon  the  cool  glass,  and  this  she 
quickly  and  guiltily  erased  with  her  handkerchief. 

Ruth  stepped  into  the  room,  just  home  from  the  con- 
cert, with  her  wraps  still  on.  Carol  fully  expected  her 
sister  to  say  something  about  her  flushed  condition,  but 
Ruth  gave  no  sign  of  seeing  anything  out  of  the  way, 
and  began  to  talk  of  the  concert.  To  her  own  surprise, 
Carol  listened  attentively  to  her  sister's  criticisms,  but 
she  was  thinking  at  the  same  time  what  a  trifling  thing 
a  concert  was,  and  rather  pitying  Ruth  for  being  so 
easily  amused. 

Her  mental  activity  continued  long  after  she  had  gone 
to  bed,  —  increased,  if  anything,  —  and  the  witches  of 
the  pillow  wove  their  most  tangled  spells  in  her  brain. 
In  her  condition,  so  highly  favorable  to  imagination,  so 
utterly  destructive  of  judgment,  the  scene  in  the  parlor 
seemed  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world.  She  re- 
acted it  time  and  again,  until,  on  the  borderland 
between  consciousness  and  unconsciousness,  she  saw 
Kaltenborn's  grave  face  close  to  hers,  felt  the  pressure 
of  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  and  distinctly  heard  him 
say,  '^  Kiss  me,  love  !  "  So  vivid  was  the  fancy  that  for 
a  moment  she  struggled  to  escape  him,  then  suddenly 
found  herself  wide-awake,  sitting  up  in  bed,  with  a 
wildly  throbbing  heart. 

Long  after  Carol  had  gone  to  sleep  Kaltenborn  sat 
in  his  study,  neither  writing  nor  reading.  He,  too,  was 
reacting  that  scene.      And  she  had  cried  !     That  one 


A  Dangerous  Prescription       257 

thought  went  plunging  down  the  harp  of  his  senses 
until  it  sprung  the  last,  deepest,  most  resonant  chord. 
How  easily  he  could  love  her !  Just  to  let  go  of 
himself!  Just  to  forget  that  he  was  a  preacher, 
pledged  to  a  hfe  of  comparative  poverty;  just  to 
forget  that  she  was  rich,  and  loved  the  pleasures  of 
the  rich.  Just  to  remember  that  he  could  go  back 
to  the  brewery,  where  his  father,  once  assured  that 
his  son  had  seen  the  error  of  his  ways,  would  wel- 
come him  with  open  arms.  Just  to  remember  that 
she  was  beautiful,  good,  pure,  noble,  and  constant. 
But  —  some  things  he  could  not  forget,  and  some 
things  he  had  vowed  not  to  remember. 


«7 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE   ''  SPEED  "    PARTY 

On  the  morning  of  the  new  engine's  trial  —  an  ex- 
quisitely bright,  bracing  morning  —  a  mixed  crowd  of 
Ashboroans  jostled  one  another  good-naturedly  on  the 
platform  at  the  station,  swarmed  curiously  around  the 
locomotive,  and  streamed  through  the  president's  pri- 
vate car.  Busy  merchants  were  there,  stealing  a  mo- 
ment from  their  stores,  and  smiling  at  each  other  for 
their  curiosity ;  women  and  children,  frankly  enjoying 
the  scene ;  shop-hands  and  trainmen,  visibly  proud 
of  the  display  and  inchned  to  be  a  httle  patronizing 
in  explaining  things  to  outsiders  ;  directors  and  officials 
of  the  road.  Work  was  suspended  in  the  railroad 
offices  for  the  time  being,  and  the  clerks  and  tele- 
graph operators  came  down  and  mingled  with  the 
other  spectators. 

At  each  end  of  the  glossy,  newly  painted  palace-car 
of  the  president  —  marked  "Winifred,"  in  bright  gold 
letters  in  an  oval  panel  on  the  side  —  stood  a  dignified 
colored  porter  in  a  brand-new,  brass-buttoned  suit  oi 
blue,  courteously  restraining  the  throng  of  sight-seers 
from  pushing.  All  the  early  morning,  while  the  car  yet 
lay  in  the  yard,  butchers',  bakers',  and  grocers'  wagons 
had  rattled  to  and  fro  over  the  tracks,  until  the  re- 
frigerator in  the  kitchen  was  packed  with  an  appetiz- 


The  ''Speed"  Party  259 

ing  store.  But  now,  at  almost  the  last  moment,  a 
belated  cart  dashed  up  to  the  rear  of  the  car  with 
further  supplies. 

"  Judge,"  the  cook,  a  Herculean  negro,  whose  crow- 
black  seemed  even  blacker  by  contrast  with  his  cap  and 
suit  of  immaculate  white,  bustled  out  from  the  kitchen  to 
the  platform  with  a  grandiose  air,  and  took  charge  of 
the  goods  from  the  cart,  at  the  same  time  pompously 
reading  the  delivery-boy  a  lecture  on  his  tardiness.  No 
one,  however,  seemed  to  take  any  offence  at  Judge's 
imperiousness ;  and  when  he  again  emerged  from  the 
car,  and  swaggered  down  the  station  platform,  a  half- 
head  taller  than  the  tallest  man  there,  it  was  evident 
that  he  was  a  favorite.  His  versatility  was  astonishing. 
To  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  bowed  and  smiled  at 
him,  he  was  the  essence  of  respect  and  humihty  ;  but  no 
sooner  did  he  enter  a  group  of  his  black  associates  than 
he  began  to  strut  like  a  turkey-cock.  They,  in  turn, 
hung  upon  his  patronizing  utterances  as  they  would 
upon  the  words  of  an  oracle,  and  guffawed  at  his  jokes, 
and  altogether  spoiled  the  black  rascal. 

The  train  consisted  of  the  president's  car,  a  day-coach, 
—  which  served  the  double  purpose  of  ballasting  the 
train  and  accommodating  some  of  the  employe's,  —  and 
the  locomotive.  The  last  glistened  in  the  sunlight  like  a 
v.-ar-horse  of  old  full-panoplied  for  the  fray.  The  flutter- 
ing flags  and  bunting  might  have  been  the  colors  of  the 
knight-errant's  fair  lady ;  the  air-pump,  like  a  great 
heart,  seemed  to  thump  with  suppressed  excitement ; 
and  the  burst  of  steam  from  the  hard-pressed  safety- 
valve  which  occasionally  made  the  bystanders  jump, 
was  not  unlike  a  mighty  equine  snort.  Old  Port,  in  a 
spotless  sheathing  of  overalls,  stood  at  the  cab  step  with 


26o  The  Darlingtons 

folded  arms.  In  honor  of  the  occasion,  his  flannel  shirt, 
usually  flaring  open  on  his  grizzled  chest,  was  fastened 
at  the  neck  with  a  neat  blue  tie.  His  attitude  and  his 
expression  were  impressive,  and  seemed  to  say  that  the 
iron  monster  upon  whose  haunch  he  so  familiarly  leaned, 
and  at  which  the  crowd  was  gazing  in  admiration  and 
wonder,  was  but  a  plaything  in  his  hands. 

Next  to  him  stood  his  wife  —  a  timid  little  woman  — 
and  his  blooming  daughter.  Mrs.  Headley  plainly 
regarded  her  husband  as  the  hero  of  the  occasion.  Her 
eyes  shifted  from  him  to  the  crowd,  and  back  again,  as 
though  connecting  the  two  ;  and  when  the  president  of 
the  road  hurried  by  and  familiarly  saluted  her  husband, 
her  withered  cheek  glowed  with  pride,  and  she  was  too 
self-conscious  for  a  moment  to  face  the  throng.  Her 
daughter,  however,  stood  by  with  a  rather  mischievous 
smile  on  her  pretty  Irish  face.  But  if  no  man  can  be  a 
hero  to  his  valet,  by  how  much  less  can  he  be  one  to 
his  quick-witted  daughter?  Still  Port  had  other  ad- 
mirers than  his  wife,  especially  among  the  round-house 
and  shop  employes,  who  had  been  given  a  couple  of 
hours  ofl",  and  among  the  train-crews  who  were  ofl"  duty. 
These  men  circled  round  and  round  the  locomotive, 
pausing  for  minutes  at  a  time  to  finger  and  discuss  a  nut, 
or  oil-cup,  or  valve. 

Old  Port  had  a  distant,  exclusive  look  in  his  steel-blue 
eyes,  as  though  nothing  near  at  hand  was  worthy  of  his 
attention.  But  there  was  one  object  near  at  hand  at 
which  he  furtively  stole  a  glance  now  and  then.  This 
was  a  group  near  the  head  of  the  engine  consisting 
of  the  president  and  his  family,  Elsie  Clifford,  Miss 
Dane,  Winter,  Kaltenborn,  and  one  or  two  others.  The 
rest  of  the  party,  among  them  several  directors,  the 


The  "Speed"  Party  261 

mayor  of  Ashboro,  an  alderman  or  two,  and  several 
other  representative  citizens,  was  scattered  down  the 
platform. 

The  president  was  the  personification  of  energy  and 
good  nature.  He  carried  himself  as  uprightly  as  a 
young  corporal  on  dress-parade,  and  stepped  as  briskly 
about ;  his  eyes  constantly  twinkled,  and  his  smiles 
reached  everybody.  Occasionally,  however,  he  gathered 
his  brows  in  a  business-like  frown,  as  if  to  remind  the 
others  that  this  was  not  all  a  holiday,  and  that  beneath 
the  festivities  lay  a  deep  and  useful  purpose.  Especially 
was  this  frown  visible  when  Mr.  Whitesides  was  near. 

Carol,  for  once,  did  not  share  this  commercial  spirit 
of  her  father.  Her  happiness  was  unalloyed.  It  sparkled 
in  her  eyes,  played  in  smiles  around  her  red  lips  and 
regular  teeth,  rang  in  her  laughter,  and  betrayed  itself  in 
her  springy  step.  She  wore  a  hat  with  a  single  feather 
stuck  in  it  at  a  rakish  angle,  which  accented  her  jaunty, 
careless  air.  Her  skirt  was  a  rough  plaid  of  bright, 
warm  colors ;  and  Kaltenborn,  who  seldom  noticed  a 
woman's  dress,  thought  she  might  have  hunted  through 
the  dry-goods  emporiums  of  the  world  without  finding  a 
pattern  more  in  harmony  with  her  mobile,  athletic  car- 
riage. As  she  gracefully  turned  and  shifted  herself  from 
one  position  to  another,  in  mere  exuberance  of  health 
and  strength,  there  was  at  least  one  observer  who  thought 
the  sight  the  fairest  of  the  occasion. 

Yet  Kaltenborn  perceived  a  shade  of  reserve  in  Carol's 
attitude  toward  him.  She  talked  to  him  freely  enough, 
though,  —  so  freely,  in  fact,  that  he  saw  she  was  fending 
him  off  by  that  method.  She  talked  of  the  engine,  the 
private  car,  old  Port,  Judge,  the  flags,  the  dinner,  every- 
thing and  everybody,  until  he  found  it  difficult  to  slip 


262  The  Darlingtons 

in  a  word  himself,  and  utterly  impossible  to  broach  any- 
thing personal,  had  he  been  so  inclined.  He  knew  the 
cause  of  this,  for  he  had  not  seen  her  since  their  little 
scene  over  the  cigar.  Her  demeanor  both  pleased 
and  displeased  him.  Regarded  as  one  of  those  httle 
defences  which  women  throw  around  their  hearts,  even 
against  the  man  they  secretly  love,  —  yea,  because  they 
love  him,  —  it  pleased  him.  Regarded  as  a  warning 
that  there  must  not  be  another  such  intimate  approach 
as  he  had  made  before,  it  displeased  him.  He  himself 
had  said  there  must  not  be  such  another  approach,  yet 
he  did  not  want  her  to  say  so. 

Finally  the  group  started  slowly  down  the  platform, 
but  paused  near  old  Port  as  Mr.  DarUngton  stepped 
forward  with  a  slip  of  paper  in  his  hand. 

^•I  am  going  to  be  my  own  conductor  to-day,  Port," 
he  said  briskly.  "  There 's  your  schedule.  It  puts  us 
into  High  Point  at  12.15,  ^^^  Y^^  won't  have  to  run 
over  fifty  miles  an  hour  at  any  time  to  make  it.  I  have 
a  little  theory  I  want  to  test.  Besides,  I  don't  care 
about  burning  out  any  of  those  new  journals  on  my  car. 
Coming  back,  though,  Port,"  and  he  gave  the  veteran 
a  dark  smile,  "  you  will  have  a  free  track  and  no  respon- 
sibihty.     We  expect  some  running  then." 

"You  will  get  it,"  answered  Headley,  grimly. 

As  her  father  moved  on,  after  a  few  minor  directions, 
Carol  said  to  the  engineer,  with  an  excited  eye,  "  Mr. 
Headley,  I  want  you  to  give  my  father  his  fill  of  speed 
for  once." 

"I  guess  that  would  be  pretty  hard  to  do,  Miss 
Carol,"  smiled  the  old  man,  kindly.  "  But  I  '11  give 
him  all  I  can  —  rememberin'  that  you  are  aboard,"  he 
added,  with  an  almost  tender  gallantry. 


The  **  Speed"  Party  263 

"  You  see,"  Carol  explained  to  Kaltenborn,  as  they 
walked  along,  "papa  has  got  all  our  engineers  in  a 
chronic  fever  about  speed  by  telling  them  some  of  his 
wild  West  experiences.  Once  he  came  down  a  Rocky 
Mountain  grade,  five  miles  long  and  sloping  like  a 
cellar-door,  —  so  he  says,  —  on  a  flat-car  with  a  broken 
brake-chain.  Half-way  down,  with  the  chances  about 
even  of  his  ever  getting  all  the  way  down  alive,  he  /// 
his  cigar,  though  the  wind  was  going  by  him,  so  he  cal- 
culates, at  the  rate  of  a  hundred  miles  an  hour.  He 
says  that  he  was  n't  a  bit  scared,  and  that  he  enjoyed 
the  trip  thoroughly,  and  that  he  will  never  be  quite  satis- 
fied till  he  rides  at  that  speed  again." 

*'  I  suppose  that  is  a  perfectly  veracious  account," 
observed  Kaltenborn,  smihng. 

"Well,  that's  the  home  version,"  admitted  Carol, 
with  her  sprightly  laugh.  -'•  Papa  tells  it  a  little  differ- 
ently outside,  I  believe.  But  that  is  practically  the 
story  ;  so  that  it  is  n't  likely  that  Port  will  be  able  to 
shake  papa's  nerves  very  much  to-day." 

*'  How  about  the  nerves  of  some  of  the  rest  of  us?" 
asked  Kaltenborn,  quizzically ;  and  from  the  little  spas- 
modic move  which  Carol  made,  and  the  daring  gleam 
which  came  into  her  eyes,  he  suspected  that  some 
nerves  would  be  shaken,  though  certainly  not  hers. 

Old  Port  watched  the  president's  party  as  far  as  the 
car,  and  then  turning  to  his  fireman,  said  slowly :  "  I 
have  known  that  girl  since  she  was  fifteen  years  old,  and 
dang  me,  if  I  know  her  as  well  to-day  as  I  did  then. 
She 's  as  curus  a  combination  as  I  ever  see.  You 
heard  her  ask  me  to  scare  her  paw,  didn't  you?  You 
kind  of  thought  she  was  jokin',  didn't  you  ?  Well, 
you  would  n't  if  you  had  seen  her  eye.     Dang  me,  I 


264  The  Darlingtons 

believe  she  'd  take  chances  on  a  smash-up,  and  killin' 
herself  and  all  her  family,  just  to  scare  her  paw."  He 
chuckled  a  little.  The  crowd  had  followed  the  presi- 
dent's party,  and  Port  was  allowing  himself  some  re- 
laxation. "  We  won't  take  any  chances,  Billy,  but 
mebbe  we  can  scare  the  old  man  a  bit  yet.  I  was 
afraid  he  M  see  that  barrel  of  rosin  in  the  tender  there. 
We  won't  use  it  unless  the  old  man  gets  too  particular ; 
but  if  we  salt  the  fire-box  with  that,  I  '11  guarantee  he 
won't  kick  any  more." 

The  party  filed  into  the  private  car.  Judge  assured 
the  president  that  the  stores  had  all  been  received  ;  the 
train-despatcher  nodded  "All  right "  from  an  upstairs  win- 
dow; Bert,  acting  in  his  father's  stead  as  conductor, 
waved  his  hand  to  Port ;  and  the  "  Winifred  "  was  under 
way  —  so  smoothly  and  noiselessly  that  the  occupants 
of  the  luxurious  seats  inside  would  scarcely  have  been 
aware  of  the  start  had  it  not  been  for  ^the  cheering 
outside. 

The  "Winifred"  was  truly  a  palace-car.  As  Kalten- 
born  noted  the  costly  hangings,  the  polished  mahogany, 
the  rich  upholstery,  the  heavy  bevelled  mirrors,  the 
glittering  chandeliers,  he  did  not  wonder  that  some  of 
the  directors  looked  askance  at  all  this  luxury.  These 
things  impressed  him,  though  not  as  they  had  impressed 
the  curious  throng  at  the  station.  To  him  it  was  mar- 
vellous that  all  this  comfort  and  luxury,  all  this  roomi- 
ness and  substantiality,  should  be  on  wheels,  flying 
smoothly  and  almost  noiselessly  across  the  country  at  a 
terrifying  rate  of  speed.  And  he  could  not  but  wish,  in 
a  boyish  way,  that  the  shade  of  the  builder  of  the  first 
humble  car  might  be  there  to  see  it  all. 

Mr.  Darlington  was  telHng  at  the  moment  about  that 


The  '^  Speed"  Party  265 

first  humble  car.  It  was  merely  a  stage-coach,  drawn 
first  by  horses,  on  wooden  rails  protected  by  strips  of 
iron.  Then  came  the  first  locomotive,  little,  if  any,  faster 
than  the  horses.  Indeed,  it  was  a  question  for  some 
time  whether  horses  or  locomotives  were  the  better 
motive  power  for  a  railroad  train  !  The  president  of  one 
of  those  early  roads  wrote,  in  his  perplexity,  to  a  noted 
civil  engineer  and  inventor,  and  gravely  asked  him  which 
of  the  two,  in  his  opinion,  was  the  better  adapted  to  the 
work ;  and  the  inventor,  old  Horatio  Allen,  gravely 
answered  that  he  preferred  locomotives,  because  the 
breed  of  horses  could  never  be  materially  improved, 
while  no  man  knew  what  development  would  take  place 
in  the  breed  of  locomotives  ! 

Then  the  builder  of  one  of  those  primitive  engines 
challenged  —  rashly,  his  friends  thought  —  a  horse-car 
to  a  race,  on  parallel  tracks.  So  desperate  were  the 
chances  for  the  engine  that  the  builder  himself  took 
his  stand  on  the  little  uncovered  platform,  and  handled 
the  throttle  and  did  the  firing.  He  won  by  a  narrow 
margin.  The  victory  was  proclaimed  over  all  the  civil- 
ized world,  and  thus  was  settled  for  all  time  the  case  of 
Horse  versus  Steam.  Stock-raisers  ominously  shook  their 
heads,  and  predicted  the  bankruptcy  of  every  horse- 
breeder  in  the  land,  and  looked  forward  to  the  early 
extinction  of  the  equine  race. 

''Why,  gentlemen,"  continued  the  president,  enthusi- 
astically, —  including  the  ladies  also  in  this  address,  — 
"  less  than  sixty  years  ago  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  railroad 
offered  four  thousand  dollars  as  a  premium  to  the  builder 
of  an  engine  that  could  dx?^\v  Jifteen  tons,  day  after  day, 
at  the  rate  oi fifteen  miles  an  hour,  on  a  level  road.  Three 
engines  were  entered  in  the  contest,  but  only  one  of  them 


266  The  Darlingtons 

met  these  rigorous  requirements,  and  that  one  had  to  be 
rebuilt  to  do  it.  Think  of  it,  gendemen  !  And  I  '11 
wager  that  those  builders  were  looked  on  by  their  neigh- 
bors as  a  lot  of  hare-brained  inventors  who  might  better 
have  been  making  an  honest  living  for  their  families  by 
sawing  wood,  —  just  as  the  people  to-day  look  on  the 
inventors  of  flying-machines." 

'^  About  what  weight  engine  did  they  make  in  them 
days,  Darlington  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Bowers,  making  his  Httle 
eyes  still  smaller  as  he  asked  the  question,  as  if  suggesting 
a  mental  calculation. 

"  These  I  speak  of  were  not  to  weigh  more  than  three 
and  a  half  tons.  They  were  afraid  of  getting  them  too 
heavy,'^  said  Darlington,  sarcastically. 

'"  What  does  this  new  one  weigh  ?  "  asked  Kaltenborn. 

"Fifty-five  tons,"  and  the  president  launched  out 
again  on  the  comparative  superiority  of  the  latter-day 
engines  in  the  matter  of  pulling  capacity. 

"  What  speed  do  you  figger  on  makin',  comin'  back, 
Darlington?"  asked  Mr.  Bowers  again,  after  staring 
fixedly  at  the  president  for  three  minutes. 

"  Well,  we  could  make  eighty  or  ninety,"  answered  the 
president,  with  a  sparkle  in  his  eyes.  ^'  Of  course,  the 
latter  would  n't  be  safe  on  this  road-bed  and  these  rails. 
I  should  n't  be  surprised  if  old  Port  would  let  her  rock 
along  at  about  seventy,  or  seventy-five,  or  possibly  eighty, 
on  the  good  stretches." 

"Would  eighty  be  perfectly  safe?"  asked  Bowers, 
shifting  his  position  a  little. 

The  president  gave  Kaltenborn  a  peculiar  glance  which 
might  have  been  taken  in  Heu  of  a  wink.  "  No  speed  is 
perfectly  safe,"  he  answered,  dryly. 

"  I  mean  reasonably  safe,  of  course,  reasonably  safe," 


The  "  Speed  "  Party  267 

the  director  hastened  to  add,  giving  the  ladies  a  sharp 
glance,  to  correct  any  erroneous  opinion  they  might  have 
formed  of  his  railroad  knowledge. 

"  It 's  safe  as  long  as  you  are  on  the  rails,"  returned 
Darlington,  facetiously.  "  Off  the  rails,  ten  miles  an  hour 
is  dangerous." 

"  Of  course,  we  Ve  got  others  to  think  of  besides  our- 
selves, —  the  ladies,  for  instance,"  answered  Mr.  Bowers, 
with  an  attempt  at  gallantry  which  was  something  of  a 
failure.  "  Mrs.  Bowers  was  quite  uneasy  this  morn  in'  for 
fear  something  would  happen  to-day,  and  I  don't  think  a 
hundred-dollar  note  would  have  tolled  her  into  this  car. 
But  I  told  her,"  he  added,  complacently,  "  that  new 
engines  cost  too  much  to  send  them  head  over  heels  into 
a  ditch  just  for  amusement." 

"  I  guess  we  '11  keep  her  out  of  the  ditch,  unless  Head- 
ley  gets  too  ambitious  to  make  a  record,"  answered  the 
president,  again  giving  Kaltenborn  that  subtle  glance. 
The  latter,  as  he  compared  Bowers's  porcine  face  and 
fishy  eyes  with  the  sharp,  clean-cut  features  of  the  presi- 
dent, could  readily  understand  the  antagonism  between 
the  two,  and  he  could  not  but  enjoy  the  president's  bait- 
ing of  the  pompous,  but  timid,  director.  "  Headley  is 
generally  conservative,"  continued  Darlington,  with  keen 
pleasure.  "  But  he  's  on  his  mettle  to-day,  and  there  is  no 
fool  like  an  old  fool,  you  know." 

''  Of  course,  he 's  got  his  instructions,"  suggested 
Bowers,  uneasily. 

*'  I  remember  once,"  Darlington  went  on,  disregard- 
ing the  interruption,  '^  we  were  testing  an  engine  down 
South,  with  the  safest  and  oldest  engineer  on  the  road. 
It  took  him  just  twenty-five  minutes  to  make  old 
iron  out  of  a  seven-thousand-dollar  machine,  and  we 


\ 


268  The  Darlingtons 

sold  the  chair-car  we  were  in  for  the  tacks  in  the 
upholstering.'^ 

Carol  gave  her  father  a  roguish,  but  admonishing, 
glance,  and  Ruth  lifted  her  handkerchief  to  her  lips  to 
hide  a  smile. 

'^  Tacks !  "  exclaimed  Bowers,  leaning  forward. 

"That's  all  there  was  left  worth  saving,"  said  the 
president,  solemnly. 

"  I  think  there  must  have  been  a  little  more  than  that 
left,  Charles,"  said  Mrs.  Darlington,  with  her  kindly  smile. 
"  I  have  no  recollection  of  that  catastrophe,"  she  added, 
though  not  as  doubting  the  story. 

"  You  don't  remember  the  time  old  Nat  Wilkins  was 
killed  ? "  asked  her  husband,  in  surprise. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  remember  that,"  she  admitted. 

•'That  was  the  time,"  he  returned.  "I  don't  think 
there  were  two  pieces  of  that  engine  left  that  you  could  n't 
have  put  in  your  pocket,"  he  continued.  '*  But  the 
strangest  thing  about  it  was  that  not  one  of  us,  twenty 
in  all,  got  anything  worse  than  a  broken  arm,  except 
poor  old  Nat  and  his  fireman.  I  got  my  left  wrist 
dislocated." 

Bowers  glanced  at  his  own  thick  wrist,  but  said  no 
more  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  only  observed  that  he 
guessed  he  would  take  a  smoke.  He  strolled  off  to  the 
smoking-room.  Several  of  the  gentlemen  followed, 
including  the  president,  whom  Carol  detained  by  the 
sleeve  long  enough  to  whisper,    "  Stop  it,  papa  !  " 

"  Would  n't  you  sooner  be  a  railroad  man  than  a 
preacher  now  ? "  she  asked  of  Kaltenborn,  as  he  sat 
down  beside  her,  in  her  father's  place. 

"  Possibly,  —  if  I  could  be  a  president,  and  ride  in 
such  a  car,  and  be  surrounded  by  such  a  happy  official 


The  "Speed''  Party  269 

family,"  he  added,  with  an  amused  glance  at  Darlington's 
retreating  figure. 

^'  Don't  you  make  fun  of  the  family,"  she  admonished 
him,  laughing.  "  It  has  on  its  best  bib-and-tucker 
to-day.  If  you  think  they  are  misbehaving  now,  you 
ought  to  see  them  when  some  big  expenditure  is  under 
discussion.  I  '11  have  to  smuggle  you  into  a  directors' 
meeting  some  time.  If  you  like  comedies,  you  would 
enjoy  the  performance." 

Kaltenborn  murmured  something  about  having  no 
objection  to  that  class  of  plays,  and  for  a  moment  they 
watched  the  slowly  revolving  landscape  through  the 
window,  —  sear  brown  fields,  leafless  woods,  straw- 
stacks,  farm-houses,  big  red  barns,  and  now  and  then  a 
village,  through  which  they  whirled  with  unslackened 
speed. 

'^I  suppose,  too,  if  I  were  a  railroad  man  just  now,  I 
could  smoke,"  observed  Kaltenborn  in  a  low  tone. 

Taken  off  her  guard,  Carol  flushed  a  Httle  at  this 
reference ;  but  her  eye  did  not  quail,  and  she  looked 
him  calmly  in  the  face.  "  I  should  think  you  would 
have  had  enough  of  smoking  for  a  while,"  she  answered. 
Her  tone  was  disapproving,  and  it  made  Kaltenborn  feel 
for  a  moment  that  he  had  been  guilty  of  an  indelicacy. 

She  looked  more  beautiful  to  him  at  that  moment  than 
he  had  ever  seen  her.  Her  hair,  especially,  —  and  he 
had  noticed  the  fact  several  times  before,  that  morning, 
—  seemed  thicker  and  finer  and  of  a  lighter  shade  than 
usual,  and  rolled  back  from  her  forehead  and  temples  in 
heavy  waves,  to  a  massy  bunch  behind.  Carol  noticed 
his  occasional  glances,  and  after  a  httle  exclaimed  play- 
fully, as  though  making  amends  for  her  previous  severity  : 

*■  You  must  n't  look  at  my  hair.     I  washed  it  y ester- 


270  The  Darlingtons 


day,  and  it  simply  won't  stay  up.  It  straggles  so,  and 
makes  me  look  positively  rebellious." 

"  I  rather  like  to  see  you  look  rebellious,"  answered 
Kaltenborn. 

^'  You  would  n't  dare  preach  that,"  she  retorted. 

"  I  say  a  good  many  things  to  you  that  I  should  n't 
dare  preach." 

"  What  —  for  instance  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a  confi- 
dential undertone. 

"  Oh,  little  things  that  come  and  go  like  breath,  but 
which,  like  breath  also,  may  carry  life  or  may  carry 
disease  and  death,"  he  answered,  evasively.  After  a 
moment,  he  added,  ^'  I  have  no  business  to  tell  you 
that  I  like  to  see  you  rebellious." 

"Why?"  she  asked,  innocently. 

"  Because  I  despise  rebelliousness  in  others,  and 
because,  as  a  rule,  it  is  a  despicable  thing.  It's  the 
same  selfish  thing  in  a  Lucifer  falling  from  heaven  or 
in  a  woman  setting  her  husband  at  naught  on  the 
price  of  a  new  hat,  knowing  that  she  can  kiss  his  anger 
away."  He  spoke  in  a  low,  unmoved  tone,  so  that 
Cash  Winter,  ten  feet  away,  might  have  supposed  them 
to  be  discussing  Browning  or  something  else  as  im- 
personal. 

"  What  do  you  say  these  things  for,  then  ? "  she 
asked,  almost  contemptuously. 

"'  Because  you  make  me,"  he  answered  boldly. 

The  calmness  with  which  she  received  this  statement 
sur^Drised  him.  She  lifted  her  face,  and  looking  him 
squarely  in  the  eye,  asked,  coolly,  "  Why  do  you  let 
me  make  you?  You  are  not  in  the  habit  of  letting 
people  make  you  do  things  against  your  will." 

There  was  a  challenge  in  her  tones  that  he  certainly 


The  "Speed''  Party  271 

would  have  accepted  had  he  been  allowed  to  answer, 
but  at  that  moment  Miss  Dane  came  up,  with  Bert 
and    Elsie. 

"  I  have  just  dug  these  people  out ! "  exclaimed 
Miss  Dane,  breezily.  "  Now  you  keep  them  dug  out. 
It's  a  reflection  on  the  rest  of  us  for  them  to  go 
mooning  off  by  themselves,  and  they  ought  to  be  re- 
buked.    But  I  suppose  they  are  not  really  responsible." 

Kaltenborn  looked  at  the  straight,  well-knit  young 
fellow,  a  head  taller  than  the  slender  form  by  his  side, 
easy  of  manner  and  deliberate  almost  to  indolence, 
with  a  face  singularly  pure  and  innocent  for  a  man's, 
and  bearing  no  hint  of  those  volcanic  fires  through 
which  he  had  so  often  passed.  And  as  he  looked 
he  did  not  wonder  that  the  tendrils  of  Elsie's  heart, 
in  reaching  upward  toward  sun  and  sky  —  now  that 
the  flowering  hour  of  womanhood  had  arrived  —  should 
wrap  themselves  so  tightly  around  this  seemingly  firm 
support.  He  prayed,  too,  in  his  heart,  that  the  sup- 
port might  prove  as  firm  in  fact  as  in  seeming;  that 
it  might  not  fall  away,  and  leave  the  tendrils  to  grasp 
at  empty  air,  until  they  withered,  sickened,  and  died ; 
or,  sadder  still,  until  they  sank  to  earth,  and  locked 
in  their  bhnd  embrace  some  baseborn  weed,  in  whose 
dense  atmosphere  the  blossoms  of  the  tender  plant 
would  slowly  smother  and  come  to  naught. 

Miss  Dane  joined  the  group,  but  the  two  lovers, 
after  taking  their  chaffing  good-naturedly,  managed, 
unobtrusively  and  apparently  without  design,  to  find  a 
seat  together  and  a  little  apart  from  the  others. 

"They'll  think  we  are  unsociable,"  said  Elsie,  look- 
ing into  Bert's  eyes. 

Bert  looked  musincrlv  out  of  the  window  without  re- 


272  The  Darlingtons 

plying.  He  heard,  but  he  Hked  to  ignore  Elsie's  little 
fears  and  whimsies  in  this  way,  and  he  fancied  that 
she  liked  it  too.  It  distinguished  his  manhood  from 
her  womanhood.  After  a  moment  he  answered,  gravely 
and  with  a  touch  of  boyish  superiority,  "  I  am  in  no 
mood  for  light  talk,  to-day,  dear.  I  am  too  happy. 
I  am  so  happy  that  I  am  almost  afraid." 

"Afraid  of  what,  sweetheart?"  she  asked,  in  a  voice 
ineffably  sweet  and  tender. 

"  Afraid  that  it  is  all  too  good  to  be  true  —  that  it  is 
more  happiness  than  I  deserve,"  he  answered  solemnly. 

Elsie  nestled  closer  to  him,  with  an  impulsive  little 
movement.  "  You  must  not,  love,"  she  whispered. 
"  Nothing  God  can  give  is  too  good  for  you." 

After  a  moment's  silence  he  asked,  in  a  lighter  vein, 
but  still  soberly  enough,  "  Elsie,  has  the  thought 
crossed  your  mind  this  morning  that  some  day  you 
will  ride  over  this  road,  possibly  in  this  very  car,  as 
the  wife  of  the  president  of  the  H.  P.,  R.,  A.,  and  S. 
railroad  —  as  my  wife?" 

Her  hand  stole  into  his,  which  was  conveniently 
near,  and  held  it  tightly  —  so  tightly  that  he  could  feel 
the  throbbing  of  his  pulse  within  her  grip. 

"We  are  sitting  in  the  little  drawing-room,"  he  went 
on  musingly,  "  you  in  some  loose-flowing  gown,  I  in  my 
smoking-jacket  and  slippers.  We  are  travelling  away 
off  somewhere,  taking  a  trip  out  West.  It  is  night.  A 
storm  is  raging  outside,  and  as  we  fly  through  the 
darkness,  the  wind  dashes  the  rain  against  the  glass. 
Outside  it  is  cold  and  wild  and  terrible ;  inside,  it  is 
warm  and  cozy.  You  are  awed  by  the  storm,  and  you 
creep  closer  and  closer  to  me,  until  at  last  your  head 
is  on  my  breast;  and  my  arm  is  around  your  waist. 


The  "Speed  "  Party  273 

And  as  I  bend  my  head  and  look  into  your  half- 
frightened  eyes,  I  smile,  and  hold  you  a  little  tighter, 
and  you  look  up  with  a  little  sober  smile,  and  whisper, 
'  Kiss  me,  husband  ! '  And  I  kiss  you.  You  love  me, 
but  you  are  also  proud  of  me,  for  I  am  a  great  railroad 
president,  and  we  are  travelling  over  this  Western  road 
as  guests  of  honor." 

"And  are  you  proud  of  me,  too?"  she  asked,  with 
luminous  eyes. 

The  tender  young  fellow's  own  eyes  suddenly  grew 
misty.     "  Yes,  I  am  proud,  too,"  he  answered. 

For  a  while  they  sat  hstening  to  the  measured  click  of 
the  wheels  beneath;  then  Bert  asked,  '"'Did  it  ever 
strike  you,  Elsie,  that  Carol  could  come  to  care  for  a 
man  like  Kaltenborn?" 

"  He  's  the  last  man  in  the  world  I  should  select 
for  her,"  she  answered.  "  Which  may  be  a  very 
good  reason  for  thinking  that  she  could,"  she  added, 
smiling. 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Bert,  soberly. 

There  was  something  in  his  manner  or  intonation  that 
Elsie  could  not  assent  to,  so  she  said  nothing,  but  finally 
asked,  "Why?" 

"  Because  they  are  too  different.  Their  ideas  of  life 
are  utterly  opposed." 

Again  a  dissenting  expression  came  over  her  face, 
and  she  asked,  though  without  self-assertion :  "  Of 
course,  we  are  only  idly  speculating ;  but  if  two  such 
people  as  Carol  and  Mr.  Kaltenborn  should  love  each 
other,  do  you  think  they  would  give  much  thought 
to  such  differences  ?  " 

"  They  are  just  the  people  that  would,"  he  answered. 
"  I  know  Kaltenborn  has  an  influence  over  her/''  he 

18 


274  The  Darlingtons 


continued.  "  He  has  got  her  interested  in  the  poor,  for 
one  thing.  Yesterday  she  took  some  old  clothes  and 
some  potted  plants  to  a  family  that  hves  down  by  the 
round-house." 

"  So  far,  so  good,"  said  Elsie. 

Much  as  she  respected  Carol's  force  and  mind,  the  es- 
sentially feminine  Elsie  had  not  an  unqualified  admira- 
tion for  Carol ;  and  when  she  mentally  compared  Bert 
with  his  sister,  it  was  always  to  the  disadvantage  of  the 
latter. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

THE   NEW   engine's    METTLE 

Meanwhile,  the  other  members  of  the  party  were  amus- 
ing themselves  in  various  ways.  A  card-game  was  go- 
ing on  in  the  smoking-room,  and  another  one  outside, 
though  most  of  the  men  preferred  simply  to  smoke  and 
talk.  The  ladies  strolled  about,  looking  into  the  presi- 
dent's sleeping  apartment,  with  its  white  bear-skin  rug, 
or  standing  at  the  door  of  the  tiny  kitchen  and  watching 
the  busy  movements  of  Judge  and  his  two  assistants. 
At  every  turn  spotless  mirrors  tempted  the  ladies  to 
pause  and  peep  a  moment,  and  give  their  back  hair  a 
passing  pressure  of  the  hand  or  their  ribbons  a  tuck. 

"  Have  you  taught  him  to  look  with  equanimity  upon 
such  sights?"  asked  Winter  of  Carol,  nodding  his  head 
to  where  Kaltenborn  was  standing  with  his  hands  be- 
hind his  back  and  watching  a  card-game,  with  an  intel- 
ligence which  suggested  that  he  himself  had  sat  at  table 
with  kings  and  queens  and  the  rest  of  the  suit. 

"  He  is  calm,"  observed  Carol,  smiling.  "  But  he  is 
only  adapting  himself  to  circumstances,"  she  added,  de- 
fensively. ''  That 's  a  virtue  which  you  ought  to  be  able 
to  admire." 

"  I  do  admire  it,"  he  returned. 

"  Though  I  doubt  very  much  if  he  does,"  she  added, 
slyly. 


276  The  Darlingtons 

Without  regarding  Kaltenborn  in  any  sense  as  a 
rival  of  his  in  the  friendship  of  Carol  Darlington^  Winter 
was  beginning  to  look  with  no  pleasure  upon  Kalten- 
born's  influence  over  Carol.  She  had  of  late,  he  noticed, 
a  way  of  taking  new  and  startling  views  of  old  and 
commonplace  things ;  she  was  always  giving  the  con- 
versation a  dialectical  turn,  and  race-horse  talk  no 
longer  satisfied  her  as  once  it  had.  Winter  regarded 
these  changes  as  only  a  passing  conceit  with  Carol,  but 
he  relished  them  none  the  more  for  that. 

"  I  ought  to  have  been  a  preacher,"  he  continued, 
with  a  jesting  look.  ''The  ministry  is  a  sure  road  to 
popularity  with  women." 

''I  don't  quite  make  the  connection,"  answered 
Carol,  dryly. 

"Well,  a  preacher  has  a  great  organization  back  of 
him  to  enforce  his  precepts.  He  is  a  kind  of  monarch, 
and  women  like  power.  Now  if  I  put  forth  a  sugges- 
tion," he  continued,  mockingly,  "it  is  critically  ex- 
amined, and,  ten  to  one,  rejected.  But  let  a  preacher 
put  forth  the  same  suggestion,  and  it  is  instantly 
accepted.  Look,  for  instance,  at  the  women  who  shut 
themselves  up  in  convents  at  the  bidding  of  a  priest." 

"  There  are  monks,"  she  suggested. 

"  Yes,  but  not  at  the  bidding  of  women.  Take  Kal- 
tenborn's  church.  I  don't  know,  but  I  '11  warrant  that 
five-sixths  of  his  active  members  are  women,  and  that 
the  membership  of  t^e  remaining  sixth  of  men  can  be 
credited  to  the  influence  of  their  wives." 

"  You  are  not  finding  fault  with  them  for  that  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"Certainly  not,"  he  returned.  "They  are  doing  a 
good  work,  I  suppose.     All  I  'm  trying  to  establish  is 


The  New  Engine's  Mettle       277 

their  submission  to  the  dictates  of  a  man  who  happens 
to  be  a  preacher.  They  wouldn't*  give  any  woman, 
however  talented,  half  the  obedience  they  give  him. 
They  may  murmur  a  little  against  the  law  he  lays  down, 
but  they  obey  it.  Living  on  a  higher  moral  plane  than 
his  —  most  of  them  —  yet  they  look  up  to  him.  They 
overlook  his  personal  blemishes,  and  though  they  may 
doubt  his  spirituality,  they  accept  him  as  authority  on 
things  spiritual." 

Carol  looked  at  him  half-humorously,  half-admiringly. 
"  You  surprise  me,  Cash.  You  show  a  perception  and 
a  philosophy  that  I  little  suspected  in  you." 

"  Of  course,  that  is  not  true  of  all  women,"  he  quali- 
fied, not  sure  whether  she  was  chaffing  him  or  not. 
"Some  women  have  an  independence  of  religious 
thought  equal  to  any  man's." 

"Do  you  admire  that  class  of  women  especially?" 
she  asked. 

"I  do." 

"  Well,  just  remember  this,"  she  said  ;  "  those  women 
who  are  so  easily  led  in  religious  matters,  are  simply  fol- 
lowing the  bent  of  their  natures,  which  is  toward  good. 
You  don't  think  a  preacher  could  lead  them  the  other 
way,  do  you?" 

*'  Of  course  not." 

"Would  you  say  that  I  am  easily  led?"  she  asked. 
She  smiled,  but  looked  at  him  keenly. 

"  I  hope  not,"  he  answered. 

"  Why  ?  " 

"Because  I  think  you  have  enough  sense  to  steer 
your  own  course." 

"  Well,  I  hope  so,  too,"  she  answered.  "  At  least, 
that  is  what  I  am  doing." 


278  The  Darlingtons 

The  trip  up  was  devoid  of  any  special  incidents. 
Whenever  they  stopped,  they  were  received  by  a 
gathering  of  people  —  for  their  coming  had  been 
flashed  along  the  wires  —  and  were  cheered  on  their 
way.  Once  they  stopped  between  stations  on  account 
of  a  hot  box  on  the  private  car,  and  once  on  account 
of  some  slight  derangement  of  the  engine. 

Dinner  was  served  a  little  before  twelve  o'clock. 
The  dining-room  being  inadequate  for  the  occasion, 
the  tables  were  thrown  into  one  long  board  and  set 
in  the  drawing-room.  Though  Judge's  resources  must 
have  been  tried,  his  reputation  did  not  suffer  in  the 
least.  The  meal  was  ready  on  the  minute  set  by 
the  president,  and  the  serving  took  place  without  a 
hitch.  There  were  no  tedious  waits,  no  cold  dishes, 
no  underdone  ones.  The  power  behind  the  waiters 
—  Judge  himself — never  once  showed  itself;  but  its 
sufficiency  was  attested  by  the  alacrity  of  the  crew  of 
white-aproned  blacks. 

Before  the  meal  was  quite  finished,  the  car  came  to  a 
rest  in  the  station  at  High  Point,  the  terminus  of  the 
hue.  When  the  guests  had  risen,  the  president  led 
them  out  into  the  station,  where  a  surprise  awaited 
them  in  the  shape  of  half  a  dozen  carriages  or  more,  in 
which  they  were  driven  about  the  little  city  for  a  breath 
of  fresh  air. 

'•'  Now,  Bert,"  said  Mr.  Darlington,  when  they  once 
more  stood  in  the  station,  ••'  here  's  your  return  schedule. 
Keep  your  eye  open.  Get  your  orders  at  every  stop, 
whether  you  need  them  or  not.  The  first  run  is  only 
fifteen  miles,  to  Langdale.  Thirty-seven  will  side- 
track at  Ralston,  and  Twenty-three  at  Rankelman. 
Port  will  have  to  turn  her  loose  to  make  those  con- 


The  New  Engine's  Mettle       279 

nections.  Outside  of  that,  he  can  do  as  he  pleases, 
and  I  guess  that  will  please  the  rest  of  us,"  he  added 
significantly,  for  old  Port's  fighting-blood  was  famous. 
*'  I  've  got  him  pretty  well  stirred  up.  Don't  egg  him 
on  too  much,''  he  cautioned.  "Now  run  into  the 
despatcher's  office,  and  see  if  everything  is  O.  K.  be- 
fore we  pull  out.     All  aboard,  ladies  and  gentlemen  !  " 

Bert  was  gone  sev^eral  minutes,  and  his  father,  in  his 
impatience,  was  just  hurrying  towards  the  despatcher's 
office  himself  when  he  met  his  son  coming  back. 
"What's  the  trouble?"  he  demanded. 

"  Nothing,"  answered  Bert,  signalling  to  Port  to  go 
ahead ;  and  the  pair  had  to  run  to  make  the  rear  plat- 
form, for  old  Port  pulled  out  with  a  vigor  which  indi- 
cated that  he  had  been  very  thoroughly  "  stirred  up." 

The  run  to  Langdale  was  made  at  a  good  warming-up 
pace,  averaging  fifty  miles  an  hour,  so  the  president  an- 
nounced. He  sat  with  his  w-atch  in  his  hand,  calling  off" 
the  time  every  half-minute  or  so,  though  without  once 
glancing  out  of  the  window  at  the  mile-posts.  This 
feat  exciting  the  curiosity  of  the  ladies,  he  called  their 
attention  to  the  rhythmic  clicking  of  the  wheels  over  the 
fish-plates,  and  explained  that  the  number  of  these  clicks 
in  twenty  seconds  represented  the  number  of  miles  being 
run  to  the  hour.  Some  of  the  guests  at  this  took  out 
their  watches  and  calculated  for  themselves  until  they 
grew  tired  of  the  amusement. 

Between  Langdale  and  Anniston,  Bert  did  not  appear 
in  the  private  car,  and  in  answer  to  Mrs.  Darlington's 
inquiry,  her  husband  said  that  Bert  was  in  the  coach, 
probably  conferring  with  the  two  or  three  machinists 
on  hand  there  in  case  of  emergency.  At  Anniston, 
Bert,   after   looking   in    at   the    operator's  window  for 


28o  The  Darlingtons 

any  telegraphic  orders,  made  his  way  forward  to  the 
engine. 

'^  Port,"  he  called  up,  "  father  says  that  last  run  would 
have  been  a  good  record  for  a  fast-freight  line.  This  is 
a  passenger  train." 

Old  Port's  eyes  flashed  at  this  unexpected  thrust,  for 
he  had  been  gradually  working  up  the  speed ;  but  he 
answered,  respectfully,  "All  right,"  and  turned  from 
the  window. 

The  next  seventeen  miles  were  reeled  off  in  a  httle 
less  than  as  many  minutes.  This  high  speed  was  hardly 
perceptible  in  the  heavy,  carefully  balanced  private  car, 
the  only  indication  being  a  gentle  swaying  motion  and 
the  low  hum  of  the  wheels.  But  when  the  passengers 
looked  out  of  the  windows,  the  trees  and  fence-posts 
and  bushes  showed  a  tendency  to  run  together,  and  the 
banks  of  the  cuts  through  which  they  passed  flashed  by 
in  quivering  hnes.  The  president's  eyes  began  to  snap, 
and  the  guests  smiled  venturesomely  at  one  another. 
Mr.  Bowers  sat  with  his  little  eyes  half-closed,  a  picture 
of  indifference,  and  in  the  very  teeth  of  the  president's 
announcement  of  sixty-three  miles  an  hour,  carelessly 
remarked  to  another  director  that  he  believed  bitumi- 
nous coal  would  soon  take  a  drop. 

Bert  sat  in  the  smoking-room,  occupied  now  only  by 
three  elderly  men  besides  himself.  He  took  no  part  in 
their  conversation,  but  seemed  absorbed  in  some  tele- 
grams which  he  held  in  his  hand.  He  had  read  them 
through  several  times  when  one  of  the  party  remarked, 
"  She  's  humming  now,  gentlemen  !  "  Bert  looked  up 
quickly,  and  gave  a  contemptuous  laugh  ;  and  when  the 
speaker  turned  questioningly,  he  stalked  out  of  the 
room.     He  took  his  stand  at  the  rear  door  of  the  car, 


The  New  Engine's  Mettle       281 

alone,  where  he  remained  until  the  next  stop.  He  then 
went  forward  to  the  engine  again. 

"  Port,  father  says  he  has  a  bottle  of  nervine  back 
there  if  you  need  it,"  he  called  up.  "  One  of  the  di- 
rectors also  says  he  'd  walk  back  to  Ashboro,  only  he 
doesn't  want  to  get  in  ahead  of  the  party." 

The  old  veteran  looked  down  testily,  not  just  relishing 
the  joke.  But  at  sight  of  Bert's  cold,  satirical  face,  his 
testiness  gave  way  to  a  sterner  mood,  and  with  his  me- 
chanical ''  All  right !  "  he  sharply  ordered  the  fireman  to 
fill  the  fire-box  to  the  doors.  The  run  before  them  was 
nearly  twenty-five  miles,  over  the  worst  section  of  track 
on  the  road  —  badly  ballasted,  and  abounding  in  curves 
and  wooden  trestles.  But  Port  was  too  old  an  engineer 
to  begin  a  record-breaking  run  by  counting  chances ; 
and  grimly  shutting  his  eyes  to  these  unpleasant  facts, 
he  urged  his  ponderous  iron  horse  to  a  still  fiercer  burst 
of  speed.  No  soft  cushions  or  cunning  springs  were 
under  /im,  to  lull  him  into  a  false  sense  of  security,  or  to 
deceive  him  as  to  the  awful  momentum  with  which  he  was 
being  hurled  through  space.  The  fifty  tons  of  iron  and 
steel  which  he  controlled  with  his  single  hand  thumped 
and  jarred,  pitched  and  swayed,  and  angrily  pounded 
the  rails  beneath,  or  furiously  ground  against  their  sides 
at  every  curve. 

The  fireman  was  distinctly  pale,  but  old  Headley  was 
calmly  watching  the  frail,  glistening  rails,  which  danced 
in  the  sunlight  far  ahead  like  cobwebs  wet  with  dew. 
He  felt  only  as  he  had  felt  a  thousand  times  before, 
when  plunging  along  through  pitchy  darkness, —  that  he 
was  in  higher  hands  than  man's.  All  restraint  had  been 
thrown  to  the  winds.  Caution  was  now  but  a  mockery. 
A   fallen   tree,   a   cow,   an    open    switch,    a   defective 


282  The  Darlingtons 

part  —  the  old  man  simply  closed  his  eyes  as  he  knew 
he  would  some  day  do  when  death  thus  faced  him  in 
fact.  But,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  his  heart  was 
rebelHous  against  Charles  Darlington. 

As  the  train  swept  down  a  long  straight  stretch  of 
track,  like  a  colossal  projectile  from  a  colossal  gun,  it 
seemed  as  if  no  human  power  could  turn  its  flight  at  the 
bottom,  and  keep  it  from  leaping  the  rails  and  burying 
itself  in  the  hills  beyond.  But  human  ingenuity  did  it ; 
they  safely  rounded  the  curve,  and  the  old  man  gravely 
commanded,  "  Fire  up  !  " 

Now  indeed  it  seemed  as  if  the  locomotive  was  a 
thing  of  flesh  and  blood,  goaded  to  madness  by  the  seeth- 
ing fires  within  its  vitals.  It  trembled  in  every  inch  of 
metal,  it  throbbed  and  gasped  and  strained  and  shook ; 
and  what  looked  a  smoothly-moving  thing  of  beauty  was 
in  fact  a  hell  of  heat  and  din.  But  onward,  ever  onward 
it  flew  ! 

Probably  not  a  person  in  the  second  car  behind,  with  the 
exception  of  Charles  Darlington,  could  have  sat  in  that 
cab  with  unblanched  cheeks.  The  passengers  were  suffi- 
ciently disturbed  as  it  was.  Conversation  had  ceased. 
A  spell  hung  over  the  party.  Carol  sat  with  fearless, 
daring  eyes,  but  her  face  was  sober.  Elsie,  wishing  Bert 
was  with  her,  hugged  close  to  Carol,  her  dark,  dilated 
eyes  flitting  inquiringly  from  one  face  to  another.  Mrs. 
Darlington  kept  her  eyes  on  her  husband  as  he  called 
off  in  a  low  tone,  "  Seventy !  Sixty-seven !  Seventy-one ! 
Seventy-two!  Seventy!  Seventy-Jive/^^  indicating  the 
variations  in  speed.  Bowers  regularly  mopped  the  sweat 
from  his  heavy  face,  though  the  temperature  was  far  from 
oppressive. 

As  the  train  slowed  down  for  Rankelman,  the  president 


The  New  Engine's  Mettle       283 

sharply  snapped  his  watch  shut,  and  said  to  his  wife,  with 
an  ominous  frown,  "  Headley  has  lost  his  senses.  There 
is  n't  a  brakeman  on  the  road  who  would  have  picked 
out  that  stretch  of  line  for  a  spurt."  But  his  brows 
quickly  relaxed,  and  with  his  unfailing  twinkle  he  began 
to  rally  the  others  on  their  sober  faces. 

Bert  once  more  went  forward  to  the  engine.  "  Stop 
at  Hamilton,  Headley ! "  he  commanded,  abruptly. 
"  You  have  ten  miles  of  the  best  track  on  the  road 
before  you.  We  expect  you  to  do  something  better  than 
you  have  yet  done.  An  engineer,  to  be  useful,  must  be 
fearless.  If  you  are  afraid,  father  says  he  will  take  the 
throttle  himself." 

Old  Headley,  scarcely  believing  his  own  ears,  peered 
down  into  young  Darlington's  face  with  a  searching,  sus- 
picious glance.  "  Did  your  father  send  that  message  to 
mel "  he  asked,  in  a  voice  trembling  with  indignation. 
"  Does  he  think  it 's  on  account  of  myself  that  I  have  — " 
He  broke  off  shortly,  and  passed  his  hand  over  his  face 
in  a  dazed  way,  as  though  he  suspected  that  it  might  be 
he  himself  and  not  everybody  else  who  was  going  crazy. 
"  I  '11  do  it,"  he  answered,  dutifully,  to  Bert's  continued 
haughty  glance. 

And  he  did.  The  run  to  Hamilton  was  made  at  an 
average  speed  of  seventy-eight  miles  an  hour,  touching 
eighty  at  a  few  points.  Still  the  passengers  suffered  less 
discomfort  and  were  in  less  danger,  by  reason  of  the  im- 
provement in  the  road-bed,  than  on  the  last  stretch  at 
seventy  miles  an  hour.  But  the  wary  president  was 
conscious  of  the  increased  speed,  and  as  the  train  pulled 
into  Hamilton  he  thrust  his  head  into  the  smoking-room, 
where  Bert,  for  reasons  of  his  own,  preferred  to  sit,  and 
said,    "  Bert,  tell  Port  not  to  try  to  beat  that !  " 


284  The  Darlingtons 

Bert,  who  was  gazing  steadily  out  of  the  window, 
nodded  his  head  without  looking  up.  A  moment  later 
the  president  saw  him  go  forward  toward  the  engine. 
Bert  paused  at  the  rear  end  of  the  tender,  in  a  curious, 
hesitating  way,  as  though  lost  in  thought.  Looking  up 
and  seeing  a  little  boy  watching  him,  he  shook  his  head 
threateningly  at  him,  and  then  laughed  as  the  little  fellow 
scurried  off  in  alarm.     Approaching  the  cab,  he  said  : 

"  Headley,  father  wants  to  see  you  and  the  fireman  in 
the  telegraph  office." 

"Both  of  us?"  asked  the  old  man,  in  surprise. 

"Both  of  you,"  answered  Bert,  sharply.  He  turned 
on  his  heel,  but  instead  of  going  back  along  the  platform, 
mounted  the  front  end  of  the  coach,  just  behind  the 
tender. 

Forty-five  seconds  later,  perhaps,  the  train  moved  off 
once  more,  this  time  with  a  jerk  that  would  have  been 
inexcusable  in  a  freight  engineer  at  the  throttle  of  his 
first  passenger-train.  The  president,  in  his  seat  in  the 
private  car,  scowled,  and  murmured  to  Carol,  "  Old  Port 
is  mad  now.  I  '11  teach  him  that  a  train  of  cars  is  not  a 
thing  to  vent  his  spite  on."  His  displeasure  increased 
as  the  locomotive  picked  up  her  speed  with  an  abrupt- 
ness which  indeed  tested  her.  The  president's  practised 
eye  could  very  nearly  approximate  their  speed  without 
the  use  of  his  watch,  and  he  estimated  a  few  minutes 
later  that  they  were  running  seventy  miles  an  hour.  This 
was  about  the  safety  limit  on  this  particular  section  of 
track.  Still  they  continued  to  move  faster  and  faster, 
and  at  last  the  president  drew  out  his  watch,  and  noted 
the  next  mile-post,  for  the  "  clicks  "  were  coming  too 
rapidly  now  to  be  counted.  Indeed,  they  were  merged 
into  a  low,  musical  whir.     The  next  post  was  passed  in 


The  New  Engine's  Mettle       285 

just  fifty  seconds,  —  seventy-two  miles  an  hour.  The 
next  in  forty-seven  seconds,  the  next  in  forty-five. 

"Eighty  miles  an  hour!"  murmured  Darlington,  so 
that  only  Carol  could  hear.  Still  the  white-banded  mile- 
posts  fantastically  jumped  into  sight  and  out  of  sight 
again,  like  dancing,  jeering  imps,  quicker  and  quicker. 

The  fences  by  this  time  were  flying  by  in  dizzy,  trem- 
bling lines.  The  telegraph  wires  grotesquely  rose  and 
fell,  mere  black  lines  dancing  against  the  sky.  The 
nearer  patches  of  wood  were  dark  blurs.  Even  the 
cleverly  constructed  palace-car  could  not  conceal  such 
speed  as  this ;  it  had  ceased  to  glide,  and  was  now 
moving  in  httle  regular  bounds,  with  side-jerks  which 
made  the  guests'  heads  roll  on  their  shoulders  like  sun- 
flowers in  a  breeze.  The  windows,  in  spite  of  their 
rubber  padding,  were  beginning  to  rattle.  The  colored 
waiter  with  a  tray  of  lemonade  glasses  found  it  difficult 
to  keep  their  contents  off  the  ladies'  laps.  Mr.  Bowers, 
now  noticeably  pale,  gripped  the  arms  of  his  chair,  but 
seemed  determined  to  die  rather  than  cry  for  quarter. 
Elsie  Clifford  gazed  steadily  out  of  the  window,  white 
to  the  lips,  but  heroically  silent.  Even  Carol  looked 
serious,  and  regarded  her  father's  silence  with  a  puzzled 
expression.  Still  he  would  give  no  sign  that  anything 
was  wrong,  and  doggedly  scanned  now  his  watch,  now 
the  flying  and  all  but  invisible  mile-posts. 

Then  came  a  blur  on  the  landscape,  a  slight  darkening 
of  the  car,  an  increased  roar,  a  confused  rotary  move- 
ment of  cube-like  figures  outside,  for  the  space  of  a 
breath,  —  and  then  the  landscape  again.  It  was  Bloom- 
ington,  through  which  they  had  swept  like  a  devastating 
hurricane,  without  warning  of  whistle  or  bell. 

"  Did  he  whistle  ?  "  asked  Darlington  of  Carol.   He  no 


286  The  Darlingtons 

longer  had  need  of  talking  low  to  hide  his'vvords  from 
the  others  ;  yet  his  voice  was  huskily  subdued. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  with  an  alarmed  glance  into  his 
excited  eyes. 

His  next  words  were  drowned  in  a  loud  roar  which 
suddenly  smote  their  ears,  and  as  suddenly  rolled  away, 
like  the  report  of  a  cannon.  They  had  crossed  the  high 
bridge  over  Flat  Rock  River,  without  so  much  as  the 
reduction  of  an  ounce  of  steam. 

"  Darlington,  is  n't  this  dangerous?  "  cried  Bowers,  in 
desperation,  lifting  his  voice  above  all  the  noise,  and 
leaning  forward  with  a  pallid,  drawn  face. 

"  Dangerous  !  "  shouted  the  president,  leaping  to  his 
feet.     "  It 's  suicidal !     The  man  has  gone  crazy  !  " 

He  reached  for  the  bell-cord  and  gave  it  an  energetic 
pull,  commanding  those  who  had  risen  to  sit  down 
again.  He  waited  fifteen  seconds.  No  response  came 
from  the  whistle,  no  application  of  the  brakes  was  made. 
Just  as  he  seized  the  cord  again,  one  of  the  mechanics 
from  the  coach  staggered  in.  The  president  stepped 
forward  instinctively  to  meet  him,  and  then  bent  his  ear 
to  the  other's  lips.  Carol  saw  her  father  suddenly  turn 
deathly  pale  and  lean  faintly  against  the  casing  for  sup- 
port. Then  he  followed  the  mechanic  out,  hke  one  not 
quite  himself. 

Carol  jumped  up,  with  an  exclamation  of  alarm.  For 
a  moment  she  gazed  excitedly  at  the  upturned,  inquiring 
faces,  until  her  eye  fell  upon  Kaltenborn,  grave  and 
anxious,  but  calm.  She  motioned  to  him,  and  the  two, 
followed  by  Elsie  Clifford  and  several  others,  made  their 
way  forward.  As  they  opened  the  door  on  to  the  plat- 
form, a  deafening  roar  burst  upon  their  ears,  giving  them 
a  sickening  sense   of  the  speed  with  which  they  were 


The  New  Engine's  Mettle       287 

rushing  on  to  destruction.  It  was  only  a  step  from  the 
vestibuled  end  of  the  private  car  to  the  door  of  the  coach, 
but  it  was  a  difficult  step,  and  both  the  young  women 
reeled  dangerously  in  spite  of  Kaltenborn's  supporting 
hand.  Then  down  the  aisle  of  the  coach  they  lurched 
and  pitched,  clinging  as  best  they  could  to  the  seats,  till 
they  reached  the  door  at  the  other  end.  There  the 
president  stood  speechless  and  motionless,  and  there 
they,  too,  soon  stood  in  the  same  stupefied  condition. 

Glaring  at  them  over  the  tender  from  the  cab  of  the 
engine,  was  a  face  whose  distorted  lines  and  fixed  eyes 
and  streaming  hair  both  father  and  daughter  knew  well. 
It  was  Bert's.  The  prospect  of  interference  seemed  to 
have  animated  him  with  a  fury  that  was  fairly  diabolical. 
At  first  sight  of  his  father  he  had  seized  the  heavy  axe 
kept  on  the  tender  for  emergencies,  and  this  he  now 
swung  to  and  fro,  madly  and  blindly,  with  a  force  that 
would  have  severed  a  strong  man's  trunk  in  a  single 
stroke. 

Chnging  to  the  railing  and  to  one  another  for  support, 
the  little  group  on  the  careening  platform  gazed  at  the 
terrible  spectacle  with  frozen  lips  and  cheeks.  Then 
Darlington,  with  a  face  not  unlike  its  usual  self,  except 
for  its  paleness,  hastily  turned  back  into  the  coach. 
Kaltenborn  fancied  he  was  overcome,  but  before  he  him- 
self could  arouse  his  benumbed  faculties  sufficiently  to 
consider  some  method  of  rescue,  the  president  as  sud- 
denly re-appeared.  He  carried  a  revolver  in  his  right 
hand.  With  that  calmness  which  comes  to  most  people 
in  the  hour  of  extreme  peril,  the  others  watched  him 
move  to  the  front  of  the  platform.  Elsie  stood  by  as 
quietly  as  though  the  weapon  which  was  to  strike  her 
lover  down,  perhaps  in  death,  was  but  a  toy.     Then 


288  The  Darlingtons 


Carol,  with  a  low  cry  of  horror,  threw  herself  upon  her 
father's  half-Hfted  arm.  Darlington  looked  at  her  a 
moment,  rather  blankly,  and  then  wound  his  left  arm 
around  her  waist. 

"  Hold  me  steady,  daughter  !  "  he  said. 

She  faltered  a  moment,  and  then  the  heroism  which 
was  hers  as  well  as  his,  asserted  itself.  She  braced  her- 
self against  the  brake-wheel,  stiffened  her  form,  and  closed 
her  eyes.  This  last  unnerved  her  father,  apparently,  for 
the  moment,  and  he  lowered  his  uplifted  arm. 

"He's  my  boy!  "  he  exclaimed,  huskily,  turning  a 
pair  of  supplicating  eyes  upon  Kaltenborn. 

"  Is  there  no  other  way?  "  asked  Kaltenborn,  with  a 
dry  throat. 

"  No  other,"  said  the  president,  hoarsely,  "  and  not 
this  unless  we  are  quick.     We  meet  23  at  Lamberton." 

Without  another  word,  Kaltenborn  seized  the  weapon 
from  Darlington's  nerveless  hand,  quickly  raised  it, 
aimed,  and  fired.  The  swaying  car  destroyed  his  aim, 
and  the  maniac  in  front,  with  an  inarticulate  cry  of 
derision,  swung  his  axe  more  fiercely  than  ever. 

"  Wait/'' 

It  was  Elsie's  voice.  Before  a  hand  could  stay  her, 
before  a  mind  could  comprehend  her  purpose,  she  had 
leaped  upon  the  rail,  and  thence  to  the  tender.  Walking 
unsteadily  over  the  rough  footing  afforded  by  the  coal, 
and  swaying  to  and  fro  with  the  rocking  motion  of  the 
tender,  she  made  her  way  toward  the  delirious  man, 
closer  and  closer,  until  it  seemed  to  the  breathless 
spectators  that  the  flying  axe  grazed  her  devoted  bosom. 
If  she  hoped  that  this  man  who  had  taken  the  most 
sacred  vows  to  love  and  protect  her  would  now,  by  some 
supernatural  agency,  fulfil  those  vowSj  she  hoped  in  vain. 


The  New  Engine's  Mettle       289 

He  was  her  lover  now  no  more  than  if  his  clay  had  been 
clothed  with  the  hair  and  armed  with  the  claws  of  a  tiger. 
His  eyes,  as  she  pressed  nearer,  glittered  with  a  demoniac 
cunning  and  resentment.  With  fear,  too,  though  one 
lunging  stroke  would  have  stilled  forever  the  brave  heart 
of  the  frail,  unarmed  woman  before  him.  But  he  dared 
not  make  that  stroke. 

It  was  manifest,  though,  that  Elsie  had  no  chimerical 
hopes,  but  intended  to  match  cunning  with  cunning. 
Folding  her  hands  before  her,  she  threw  back  her  head 
and  sent  forth  peal  after  peal  of  ringing  laughter.  In 
that  environment  of  death  and  worse  than  death,  the 
sweet,  girlish  tones,  rising  clear  and  high  above  all  the 
hideous  din  ;  that  slender,  swaying  form,  with  its  flying 
hair  and  drapery,  —  did  more  to  awe  the  straining  spec- 
tators than  all  that  had  gone  before.  It  was  equally 
effective  with  Bert.  An  expression  of  the  intensest 
astonishment  overspread  his  face,  and  his  axe  began  to 
swing  more  slowly.  Again  the  musical  notes  rang 
merrily  out,  and  the  axe  came  to  a  rest. 

"  Good,  Bert !  Good,  good  !  Heap  on  the  coal, 
heap  on  the  coal !  "  she  cried,  and  stretched  her  arms  to 
him  invitingly.  For  a  moment  he  surveyed  her  suspi- 
ciously ;  then,  his  face  lighting  with  a  childlike  smile,  he 
sprang  forward  and  lifted  her  down.  As  he  did  so,  she 
bound  his  arms  to  his  side,  and  bore  him  to  the  floor. 

Ten  seconds  would  have  been  sufficient  for  him,  in 
the  fury  of  betrayal,  to  fling  her  to  certain  death.  But 
scarcely  five  had  passed  before  Kaltenborn  had  planted 
his  bulk  mercilessly  upon  the  fallen  man's  breast,  and 
pinioned  his  arms  to  the  floor  in  a  grip  of  iron.  At  the 
same  instant  almost,  Charles  DarHngton  was  closing  the 
throttle  of  the  engine  and  applying  the  air-brakes. 

19 


290  The  Darlingtons 

Kaltenborn  held  his  victim  down  until  Lamberton  was 
reached,  and  a  doctor  summoned,  and  the  quieting 
morphine  administered.  The  poor  stupefied  form  was 
then  carried  into  the  private  car,  and  laid  away  in  the 
berth  in  the  president's  sleeping-room.  One  of  the 
shop-hands  in  the  coach  was  impressed  into  service  as 
fireman,  the  president  himself  took  his  seat  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  engine,  and  the  train  once  more  moved 
on,  slowly  and  wearily  by  contrast  with  its  former  speed. 

The  remainder  of  the  trip  was  painfully  different  from 
its  joyous  beginning.  The  men,  after  gravely  canvassing 
the  details  of  the  harassing  affair,  and  expressing  their 
sympathy  for  the  stricken  family  and  the  unfortunate  son, 
turned  to  more  cheerful  topics,  talking  in  the  low, 
guarded  tones  which  people  adopt  in  the  house  of 
afiHiction.  Most  of  the  women  timidly  avoided  that 
end  of  the  car  in  which  Bert  lay,  as  though  they  feared 
he  might  rise  from  his  stupor  and  stalk  out  among  them. 
They  looked  pale  and  worn  and  shattered,  and  talked 
whisperingly  of  the  sad  event  of  the  day.  Tears  now 
and  then  wet  the  eyes  of  more  than  one. 

Mrs.  Darlington  and  Ruth  sat  in  the  Httle  room  in 
which  Bert  lay.  Ruth,  seated  on  a  stool,  with  her  face 
in  her  mother's  lap,  softly  sobbed.  The  mother,  with 
dry  eyes,  soothingly  smoothed  her  daughter's  dark  hair, 
but  wisely  refrained  from  offering  further  comfort.  Once 
or  twice  one  of  the  ladies  appeared  at  the  door,  and 
asked  if  she  could  do  anything.  Once,  too,  Judge,  the 
cook,  softly  glided  up  and  solicitously  asked  if  some 
"  hot  soup  or  sumpin'  "  would  n't  do  Mister  Bert  good. 
"No,  thank  you,  Judge,"  said  Mrs.  Darlington,  with  a 
grateful  smile.  "  He  's  asleep  now."  Upon  which  Judge 
solemnly  withdrew  his  kindly  black  face. 


The  New  Engine's  Mettle       291 

What  the  thoughts  of  that  mother  were,  none  but 
another  mother,  with  another  such  son,  could  tell,  —  none 
but  she  who  had  felt  the  litde  soft  lips  at  her  breast,  and 
the  little  warm  hand  on  her  neck  ;  who  had  helped  along 
the  first  tottering  steps,  had  planned  the  first  little  pair  of 
trousers,  and  had  seen  the  child  fade  away  in  the  youth, 
and  the  youth  in  the  man.  None  but  she  whose  first 
thought,  first  energy,  first  love,  first  everything,  had,  by 
God's  decree,  been  for  her  young. 

In  another  private  apartment,  with  drawn  curtains,  sat 
Elsie  and  Carol.  They  had  not  spoken  since  entering 
the  room.  The  tension  to  which  Elsie's  sensitive  nature 
was  strung  was  painful  to  see.  She  nervously  crossed 
and  uncrossed  her  hands,  she  clutched  at  the  folds  of 
her  dress,  and  the  muscles  of  her  face  twitched  contin- 
uously.    At  last  she  gave  up. 

"Oh,  what  shall  I  do?"  she  sobbed,  despairingly, 
hiding  her  face  on  Carol's  shoulder  and  piteously  clinging 
to  her  hands. 

"  I  love  him,  too,  dear,"  said  Carol,  her  own  voice 
breaking.  Elsie  sobbed  a  little  longer,  and  then  raised 
her  face ;  their  lips  met  and  held  together  for  a  long 
time,  the  tawny  head  of  one  pressed  close  and  lovingly 
against  the  dark  head  of  the  other,  Elsie's  arms  around 
Carol's  waist,  Carol's  around  Elsie's  neck. 

"  I  dread  going  to  bed  to-night,"  sighed  Elsie,  tremu- 
lously. 

"  You  are  going  to  sleep  with  me  to-night,"  answered 
Carol.  Her  voice  was  exquisitely  sweet  and  tender,  and 
went  straight  to  the  other's  heart. 

Meanwhile  Kaltenborn  was  listening  to  the  story  of 
Bert's  thraldom  to  liquor  from  the  lips  of  Cash  Winter. 
The  scene  he  had  just  witnessed,  and  certain  thoughts  of 


292  The  Darlingtons 

Carol  which  crowded  in  upon  his  brain  in  connection 
with  that  scene,  made  Kaltenborn  unusually  impression- 
able, and  Winter's  story  affected  him  deeply. 

"  I  drink  myself,  a  Httle,"  concluded  Winter,  invited 
to  this  frankness  by  Kaltenborn's  fraternal  manner,  "  and 
I  have  a  bar  attached  to  my  hotel.  I  could  hardly  run 
the  hotel  without  it.  But  every  time  Bert  has  one  of 
these  falls,  I  have  such  a  repugnance  to  the  accursed 
stuff  that  I  am  tempted  to  close  the  bar  and  pocket  my 
losses.  Yet  Bert  never  got  a  drop  to  drink  in  my  place, 
and  my  bar-tenders  know  it  would  be  worth  their  jobs  to 
sell  him  one.  And  it  is  n't  the  liquor  alone, "  he  continued^ 
defensively.  "  Liquor  works  no  such  havoc  with  you  or 
me,  or  with  more  than  one  man  in  ten  thousand.  The 
curse  is  in  Bert's  blood.  I  suppose  people  look  at  his 
parents  and  sisters  and  Elsie  —  poor  little  thing !  — 
and  his  prospects,  and  wonder  how  he  can  drink.  But 
I  know  that  he  is  not  a  responsible  being  when  these 
moods  take  him.  C.  A.'s  father  was  the  same  kind  of 
a  man,  though  C.  A.  never  takes  a  drop  himself.  It 's 
distasteful  to  him.  His  father  died  at  thirty-five  — 
as  a  result  of  drink,  I  suppose,  —  and  left  his  family 
without  a  cent,  for  he  could  never  get  insured,  and  C.  A. 
went  to  work  in  the  shops  when  he  was  only  a  child." 

" '  The  fathers  have  eaten  sour  grapes,  and  the  children's 
teeth  are  set  on  edge,' "  said  Kaltenborn,  sadly.  "  I 
know  of  a  case  along  the  same  lines.  The  grandfather 
had  such  a  temper  that  he  more  than  once  tore  a  shirt 
oif  his  back  because  it  chafed  his  neck.  If  he  stubbed 
his  toe  on  a  chair,  he  would  often  kick  it  across  the 
room,  and  had  been  known  to  throw  it  through  a  window. 
His  grandchild  displayed  the  very  same  temper  at  a 
tender  age,  and  the  child's  mother  used  to  smile  at  it 


The  New  Engine's  Mettle       293 

and  call  it  spirit.  At  twenty-two  the  boy  was  a  murderer, 
and  is  in  the  penitentiary  now.  Should  he  happen  to 
marry  and  have  children,  it  will  take  generations  of 
struggle  and  tears  and  bitter  remorse  on  the  part  of 
innocent  ones  to  exorcise  that  devil.  I  think  that  is  one 
of  the  most  solemn  thoughts  that  ever  come  to  my  mind. 
The  victim  may  be  just  such  a  manly  young  fellow  as 
Bert  Darlington.  But  saddest  of  all,  perhaps,  —  at  least 
to  a  man,  —  is  when  the  victim  is  some  pure,  sweet  girl, 
as  free  from  sin  almost  as  an  angel,  yet  destined,  through 
the  devil  that  her  father  or  grandfather  or  great-grand- 
father nursed  into  lusty  life  upon  his  evil  passions,  to  be 
shunned  by  her  sex,  and  to  die  a  nameless  thing,  and  be 
buried  in  a  potter's  field.    The  lesson  is  —  Be  good." 

At  Ashboro,  Kaltenborn  walked  upstairs  in  the  station 
with  Carol  while  she  telephoned  to  the  house  for  a 
carriage. 

"  Is  there  anything  that  I  can  do  ?  "  he  asked,  as  they 
stood  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

**  Be  charitable,"  she  answered,  with  a  little  worn  smile 

"  I  feel  now  as  though  I  could  never  be  anything  else," 
he  returned,  sympathetically. 

She  half  offered,  he  half  invited,  her  hand  ;  and  when 
it  lay  in  his  he  carried  it  to  his  lips.  She  received  the 
homage  in  the  spirit  in  which  it  was  given,  and  as  she 
turned  her  head  partly  away  to  gather  up  her  skirts  to 
descend  the  stairs,  she  said  quietly,  — 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  should  be  so  glad  that  you  did 
that/' 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

A   DROWNING  MAN'S   STRAW 

When  Charles  Darlington  stepped  down  from  the  loco» 
motive  at  Ashboro,  he  looked  ten  years  older  than  he 
had  in  the  morning.  He  looked  much  better  after 
breakfast  the  next  day,  but  still  had  not  gotten  back  all 
the  years  of  which  he  had  been  robbed.  At  the  office 
he  found  the  editor  of  the  I?itelligencer,  who  respectfully 
soHcited  an  authoritative  account  of  the  sensational 
events  of  the  day  before,  and  declared  his  readiness  to 
suppress  whatever  facts  the  president  should  indicate. 

"  Suppress  nothing,"  said  Darhngton,  sharply.  "You 
are  not  running  your  paper  in  the  interests  of  my 
family.  Your  subscribers  pay  for  the  news,  and  they 
ought  to  have  it."  And  he  briefly  outlined  the  whole 
affair. 

All  day  long  Darlington  flitted  in  and  out  of  Carol's 
room,  on  one  pretext  or  another,  passing  and  re-passing 
the  traffic-manager's  empty  private  office,  —  for  Bert  lay 
on  a  bed  of  fever.  Carol  understood  these  visits.  She 
knew  that  her  father  in  his  loneliness  and  heartache 
wanted  to  be  near  her,  to  hear  her  voice,  to  touch  her 
hand,  and  to  be  constantly  assured  that  she  was  not  too 
miserable.  The  thought  made  her  very  tender,  and  more 
than  once,  as  the  door  closed  on  his  trim,  upright  figure, 
the  tears  came  into  her  eyes,  and  she  murmured  to  her- 


A  Drowning  Man's  Straw        295 

self,  with  a  lump  in  her  throat,  "  Poor  papa !  poor  papa  ! " 
Nothing  about  him,  though,  betrayed  his  grief — no 
wanness  of  face,  no  subdual  of  voice,  no  diminution  of 
energy.  This  stoicism  in  her  father  always  excited 
Carol's  profound  admiration,  and  she  had  striven  to 
acquire  it  with  a  perseverance  worthy  of  a  better  cause. 

To-day,  though,  she  wanted  to  lay  her  head  on  her 
father's  shoulder  and  have  a  good  cry.  She  would  not 
gratify  the  weakness,  —  as  she  believed  it,  —  but  she 
came  very  near  doing  so  perforce.  The  two  were  going 
over  a  large  sheet  of  tonnage  statistics  —  properly  Bert's 
work.  Mr.  Darlington,  standing  by  Carol's  chair,  dropped 
his  arm  across  her  shoulder.  All  at  once  the  dry  columns 
of  figures  were  splashed  with  a  single  teardrop.  Both 
affected  not  to  see  it,  and  were  so  affecting  still  when 
another  crystalline  drop  fell,  and,  mixing  with  the  purple 
copying  ink,  wrought  havoc  with  the  clerk's  neat  sheet. 
For  a  moment  the  figures  blurred  before  Carol's  eyes ; 
then  she  softly  drew  her  handkerchief  and  cleared  the 
mist  away,  and  was  about  to  go  on  calling  off  figures, 
when  her  father  abruptly  pressed  his  face  tightly  to  hers, 
and  held  it  there  while  the  scalding,  beneficent  tears 
poured  down  her  cheeks.  When  he  released  her,  with 
some  murmured  tenderness,  she  gave  him  a  moist, 
tremulous  kiss. 

That  evening  a  httle  family  council  was  held,  consist- 
ing of  father,  mother,  and  elder  sister.  Darlington  sat  by 
the  table  with  his  paper  in  his  hands,  glancing  it  over 
perfunctorily  in  the  intervals  of  silence.  Carol  sat  with 
a  book  in  her  lap,  but  she  had  read  over  and  over  the 
same  page  without  interest  or  comprehension.  Mrs. 
Darlington  was  in  her  accustomed  place  at  the  end  of 
the  table,  working  away  steadily  with  her  needle,  but 


296  The  Darlingtons 

with  luminous,  troubled  eyes.  At  last  Darlington  laid 
his  paper  down  ominously.  -- 

"  We  might  as  well  face  the  music,"  he  said,  conclu- 
sively. "There  is  only  one  thing  left  to  do,  and  that  is 
to  send  him  to  some  institution  for  treatment." 

Neither  of  the  women  moved  an  eyelid,  but  Mrs. 
Darlington's  hands  suddenly  became  still.  Then  Carol 
gave  her  father  an  inquiring  glance. 

"I  was  talking  with  Dr.  Hammond  about  it  to-day," 
Darlington  continued,  "  and  he  strongly  urged  such  a 
course.  There  is  no  doubt  about  it,  it  is  a  disease  with 
Bert ;  and  the  longer  it  runs,  the  harder  it  will  be  to  cure. 
He  cannot  overcome  it  alone,  any  more  than  he  could 
any  other  disease." 

*•' Sometimes  people  can  overcome  disease  by  will- 
power alone,  especially  diseases  of  a  nervous  order,  like 
this,"  suggested  Carol. 

'^  Bert  can't,"  answered  her  father.  "  He  has  demon- 
strated that.  So  far  as  the  disgrace  of  sending  him  off 
somewhere  is  concerned,"  he  continued,  as  if  he  had 
outlined  all  objections  in  advance,  "nothing  can  add  to 
the  disgrace  he  has  already  brought  on  himself —  and  us. 
We  might  as  well  look  that  fact  in  the  face.  There  is  no 
use  in  shutting  your  eyes  to  a  thing  that  is  as  patent  as 
sunlight.  Every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  this  town 
knows  his  weakness." 

Again  neither  of  the  women  took  any  exception  to  his 
statement,  but  Darlington  knew  well  enough  that  silence, 
in  this  case  at  least,  did  not  give  consent.  He  would  have 
been  glad,  indeed,  had  they  offered  some  valid  objection, 
for  the  course  he  proposed  was,  in  spite  of  his  brave  words, 
gall  and  wormwood  to  his  pride.    Finally  he  continued,  — 

"  Dr.  Still  says,  though,  that  he  is  not  sure  about  the 


A  Drowning  Man's  Straw        297 

benefits  of  such  a  course.  The  treatment  frequently 
fails,  he  says,  even  in  the  case  of  habitual  drunkards,  and 
with  periodical  drunkards  its  efficacy  is  even  more 
uncertain.  In  Bert's  case  he  thinks  the  moral  influence 
would  be  bad.  It  would  not  only  be  a  public  acknowl- 
edgment of  the  boy's  inability  to  overcome  his  appetite, 
but  he  thinks  the  taking  of  medicine  would  tend  to  make 
Bert  himself  relax  his  will  power.  I  don't  know  but  he  's 
right.  But  it's  the  single  chance  left,"  he  added,  with  a 
kind  of  desperation,  "  and  it  seems  to  me  that  we  can 't 
do  less  than  try  it.  We  owe  it  to  the  boy,  for  he  won't 
go  himself.  We  have  tried  everything  else.  If  Bert  had 
associates  that  led  him  into  these  excesses,  I  'd  send  him 
away.  But  it  is  n't  his  friends.  I  know  very  well  that 
his  friends  exercise  a  restraining  influence,  if  anything. 
And  his  incentives  all  around  to  a  life  of  sobriety  are 
greater  here  than  they  could  be  anywhere  else.  Whiskey 
alone  does  it,  and  where  on  earth  can  I  send  him  that  he 
can't  get  whiskey?" 

"There  is  one  thing  that  I  ought  to  tell  you  both," 
said  Mrs.  DarHngton,  in  a  subdued  voice,  "  now  that  this 
idea  of —  of  sending  him  off  has  come  up.  I  had  a  long 
talk  with  him  this  afternoon,  and  I  think  he  sees  some 
things  in  a  new  light  —  some  things  about  the  church 
and  a  Christian  Hfe,  Charles,"  she  added,  with  an  earnest 
glance  at  her  husband.  "  He  talked  very  earnestly,  and 
I  believe  a  change  has  taken  place  in  him.  I  believe  he 
has  secured  an  ally  which  will  enable  him  to  conquer  his 
foe  —  if  it  can  be  conquered  without  medical  aid.  And 
I  think,  Charles,  that  we  ought  to  give  him  one  more 
chance  to  escape  the  humiliation  of  confessing  to  the 
world  his  inability  to  help  himself." 

Darlington  was  as  willing  as  his  wife  to  spare  his  son's 


298  The  Darlingtons 

pride.  This  hope  of  hers  was  built,  to  his  sceptical 
mind,  upon  sinking  sand.  But  drowning  men  grasp  at 
straws,  and,  furthermore,  the  thought  had  crossed  his 
own  mind  more  than  once,  since  Bert's  last  spree  but 
one,  that  he  might  possibly  be  wrong  about  this  thing 
called  religion.  It  had  certainly  helped  others.  The 
unfailing  sweetness  and  patience  of  his  wife  through  all 
their  married  years,  he  had  always  attributed  to  natural 
traits ;  but  of  late  the  thought  had  come  to  him  with 
peculiar  persistency  that  possibly  her  virtues  were  in  part 
owing  to  her  Christian  ideals.  If  Bert  could  be  made 
to  believe  that  Christianity  would  help  him,  Darlington 
could  see,  scientifically,  how  he  would  be  helped ;  for  a 
believer  would  receive  benefit  through  the  mere  act  of 
believing,  regardless  of  the  truth  of  his  belief.  Darlington 
could  not  entertain  the  highest  respect  for  the  intelligence 
of  any  person  who  could  accept,  iJi  ioio,  the  teachings 
of  any  church,  even  though  that  person  was  his  own  wife 
or  son  ;  and  in  his  heart  he  regarded  the  vein  of  scepti- 
cism in  Carol  as  an  evidence  of  intellectual  acuteness. 
But' intellect  was  not  everything,  he  well  knew.  Con- 
sequently, his  wife's  words  threw  a  faint,  trembling  ray 
of  hope  into  the  gloom  which  now  oppressed  him,  and 
after  some  further  talk  the  project  of  sending  Bert  away 
was  temporarily  abandoned. 

Carol  went  upstairs  to  relieve  Ruth,  who  was  watching 
beside  Bert.  She  found  Bert  asleep.  His  pale  face, 
which  seemed  to  have  grown  thinner  in  only  twenty-four 
hours,  his  white  hand  on  the  coverlid,  and  a  general  air 
of  invalidism  and  frailty,  gave  him  a  peculiarly  chastened 
appearance.  A  book  was  lying  open  on  the  little  table 
near  his  pillow.  She  glanced  at  it,  and  saw  that  it  was 
the  Bible. 


A  Drowning  Man's  Straw       299 

This  simple  incident  affected  her  most  powerfully,  and 
when  she  went  to  her  own  room,  she  had  hardly  closed 
the  door  before  she  burst  into  tears  ;  and  with  twitching 
lips  and  an  aching  tenderness  she  murmured,  "  Poor, 
dear  little  brother  ! "  That  Bible  was  inexpressibly 
pathetic  to  her.  Bert  had  always  been  indifferent  to  the 
church  and  to  spiritual  matters  ;  since  he  was  a  little  lad 
at  his  mother's  knees  he  had  probably  never  read  con- 
secutively a  whole  chapter  of  the  Scriptures  ;  and  Carol's 
mental  picture  of  him,  propped  up  in  bed,  patiently, 
blindly,  hopefully  groping  through  those  pages  of  sacred 
writ  for  the  mystic  words  which  would  make  a  man  of 
him  again,  stirred  her  love  to  its  deepest  depths. 

Was  it  all  a  delusion  —  this  religion?  Was  Kaltenborn 
a  victim  of  delusion  ?  Were  all  the  miUions  who  read 
that  Book  with  faith,  who  lived  with  lighter  hearts  because 
of  it,  who  laid  their  loved  ones  hopefully  away  because 
of  it,  who  died  with  smiles  upon  their  faces  because  of  it 
—  were  all  these  victims  of  a  delusion  ?  Were  all  the 
milHons  who  bent  the  knee  in  Christian  lands  to  be 
classed  with  the  savage  who  prostrated  himself  before  a 
painted  image  and  prayed  for  rain  ?  Carol  had  asked 
herself  these  questions  before,  but  to-night  there  was 
something  abhorrent  even  in  the  asking  of  them  ;  and  it 
was  a  source  of  wonderful  consolation  to  her  to  know 
that,  whatever  her  secret  doubts  might  have  been,  she 
had  never  spoken  one  word  to  destroy  a  single  fellow- 
being's  faith. 

Bert  was  confined  to  his  bed  for  several  weeks  by  what 
the  family  knew  as  nervous  prostration.  Elsewhere  it 
was  known  by  another  name,  a  terrible  Latin  name,  asso- 
ciated with  infernal  terrors  —  delirium  tremens.  His 
case  was  a  mild  one,  though,  and  the  devils  which  he 


300  The  Darlingtons 

saw  were  goblins  —  little  fellows  of  a  tantalizing  rather 
than  of  a  frightful  mien.  The  footboard  of  his  bed  was 
their  favorite  carnival  ground.  Here  they  gathered  — 
grotesque  little  fellows,  with  big  paunches,  pipe-stem 
legs,  peaked  caps,  and  flowing  whiskers  —  and  winked 
and  grimaced  and  turned  somersaults  and  shook  their 
fists  at  Bert  and  laughed  and  pretended  to  jump  on  him, 
swinging  their  arms  back  and  forth  to  get  a  good  start, 
as  the  boys  used  to  do  at  school.  It  was  seldom  that 
they  frightened  Bert,  but  they  often  made  him  angry,  in 
his  irritable  condition.  To  enable  him,  therefore,  to  rid 
himself  of  these  pests,  a  cane  was  left  at  his  bedside.  As 
long  as  the  goblins  amused  him,  he  would  let  them  alone  ; 
but  when  they  began  threatening,  he  would  stealthily 
reach  for  his  cane,  gradually  lower  it  until  it  rested  on 
the  far  end  of  the  footboard,  and  then,  with  one  quick 
move,  he  would  sweep  the  whole  band  off  into  vanishing 
air. 

Sometimes,  when  Carol  or  Ruth  was  sitting  on  the 
edge  of  the  bed,  one  of  these  mischievous  goblins  would 
unexpectedly  put  in  an  appearance  on  her  shoulder,  or, 
still  more  impudently,  on  top  of  her  head,  from  which 
point  he  would  thrust  out  his  tongue  at  Bert,  or  jump  up 
and  knock  his  heels  together,  or  slap  his  sides  and  crow 
like  a  rooster,  —  all  in  a  most  tantalizinsf  manner.  Bert 
would  silently  watch  his  tormentor  until  his  patience  was 
exhausted ;  and  then,  cunningly  diverting  his  eyes  so 
that  the  imp  might  not  suspect  his  purpose,  he  would 
whisper  his  trouble  to  his  sister.  Upon  this,  she  would 
lift  her  hand  with  infinite  caution  until  it  hovered  above 
the  unsuspecting  victim,  then  pounce  down  upon  him 
like  a  hawk,  squeeze  him  between  her  fingers  until  he 
shrieked  with   pain,   and   toss   him  into  space.     This 


A  Drowning  Man's  Straw        301 

performance  seldom  failed  to  make  the  invalid  laugh 
until  his  shrunken,  childish  piping  filled  the  room,  and 
the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks.  To  Carol,  too,  this 
routing  of  the  goblins  was  so  funny  that  the  tears  often 
crowded  her  eyes,  until  Bert  would  sometimes  say, 
pettishly,  ^'  Don't  laugh  that  way,  Carol !  You  look  as 
though  you  were  crying." 

Bert's  real  suffering  was  not  in  this  fantastic  land  of 
goblins,  but  in  the  material  land  of  humiliated  parents 
and  sisters,  stricken  sweetheart,  blasted  hopes,  impotent 
resolutions,  broken  vows,  and  dark,  uncertain  future. 
The  anguish  which  racked  his  wasted  frame  as  he  thought 
of  these,  in  his  rational  moments,  can  be  better  imagined 
than  described.  To  such  an  extent  was  his  self-abasement 
carried  that  he  shrank  at  times  from  the  eyes  of  his 
mother  and  sisters.  Yet  he  was  brave,  and  he  suffered 
in  secret  except  on  the  few  occasions  when  the  demon 
of  Remorse  prodded  him  so  pitilessly  that  he  broke  down 
utterly  in  the  presence  of  Carol  or  his  mother. 

Elsie  came  nearly  every  day  to  inquire  after  the  sick 
one,  and  to  leave  him  flowers  or  delicacies.  She  did 
not  ask  to  see  him,  though,  and  he  did  not  ask  to  have 
her  brought  up,  or  make  any  confidences  to  any  of  the 
family  about  her.  Kaltenborn  also  called  several  times  ; 
but  though  he  and  Bert  were  designedly  left  alone,  the 
latter  said  nothing  to  his  mother  about  having  opened  his 
heart  to  the  minister. 

Bert  first  left  the  house  on  a  beautiful  spring  morning. 
It  was  late  in  April,  but  the  season  was  backward,  and 
the  tender  green  leaves  on  the  elms  were  scarcely  larger 
than  squirrels'  ears.  Yet  the  sun  shone  with  the  fervor 
of  a  penitent ;  the  dead,  brown  lawns  were  sprinkled 
with  green ;  the  crisp  air  was  touched  with  a  summery 


302  The  Darlingtons 

softness ;  and  all  nature  seemed  to  be  beginning 
anew. 

Bert  wore  a  heavy  overcoat,  and  was  muffled  to  the 
ears.  Haggard,  hollow-eyed,  trembling,  leaning  heavily 
upon  a  cane,  with  an  old  man's  stoop  and  a  settled  air 
of  sadness  and  despair,  he  made  his  way  slowly  along  the 
sunny  street.  His  eyes  were  fastened  on  the  ground, 
and  he  seemed  oblivious  to  everything  around  him. 
Some  one  met  and  passed  him  on  the  sidewalk  ;  he  knew 
it  was  a  man,  and  he  knew,  from  a  slight  change  in  the 
footfalls,  that  the  man  was  looking  back  at  him  ;  but  that 
was  all.  He  passed  another  pedestrian,  and  again  he 
knew  he  was  being  stared  at  from  behind.  A  carriage 
rolled  by  —  he  knew  it  was  a  carriage  from  its  rumbling. 
It  seemed  to  slacken  its  speed  as  it  drew  nearer,  and 
then  the  sweet  voice  of  a  young  woman  sang  out,  blithely, 
"  Why,  hello,  Bert  !  "  He  nodded  his  head  without  Hft- 
ing  his  eyes,  and  made  an  abortive  motion  toward  his  hat 
with  his  hand,  and  continued  on  his  tottering  way. 

He  passed  Elsie  Clifford's  home.  He  knew  it  without 
looking,  but  no  one  would  have  suspected  it  from  any 
change  in  his  expression.  He  turned  the  next  corner 
beyond,  mechanically,  and  apparently  without  marking 
his  course.  Two  large  dogs  were  romping  on  the  side- 
walk. They  took  no  pains  to  get  out  of  his  way,  and  he 
weakly  struck  at  them  with  his  cane.  One  of  them,  with 
puppy  awkwardness,  dashed  against  Bert's  legs  in  its 
efforts  to  escape,  and  he  reeled  and  fell  to  the  sidewalk. 
His  hat  rolled  away  into  the  grass  on  the  terrace.  For 
a  moment  he  stared  about  him  in  a  bewildered  way,  and 
made  no  attempt  to  rise.  Then  some  one,  running  up 
from  behind,  bent  over  him  and  asked  him  if  he  was 
hurt.     Bert  murmured  something  unintelligible,  and  his 


A  Drowning  Man's  Straw        303 

rescuer,  after  looking  at  him  queerly  for  a  moment,  lifted 
him  to  his  feet  and  set  his  hat  on  his  head.  Without 
glancing  at  his  good  Samaritan,  Bert  mumbled  his  thanks, 
and  moved  slowly  and  uncertainly  on.  He  turned  in  at 
a  little  vine-clad,  stuccoed  cottage,  and  asked  of  the  old 
woman  who  responded  to  his  ring  —  Mrs.  Hicks  —  for 
the  Rev.  Stephen  Kaltenborn.  A  moment  later  he  was 
seated  in  the  minister's  study. 

The  young  man's  aspect  gave  Kaltenborn  a  positive 
shock.  He  had  seen  Bert  during  his  sickness  a  number 
of  times,  but  there  the  environment  of  bed  and  sick-room 
prepared  one  for  the  change,  and  smoothed  over  the  fell 
work  of  disease.  Walking  about,  in  the  garb  of  every-day 
life,  Bert  looked  like  one  risen  from  the  grave.  He 
seemed  the  wreck  of  his  former  self.  Nor  was  the  change 
merely  physical.  The  stooped,  trembling  figure  and  the 
wasted  face  were  bad  enough,  but  there  was  something 
almost  appalling  in  the  stolid  hopelessness  which  was 
stamped  upon  him,  and  which  seemed  to  weigh  him 
down  like  an  incubus  from  wdiich  there  was  no  escape. 
His  blue  eyes  were  faded  and  dull ;  his  brow  was  wrinkled 
and  contracted,  like  a  dotard's. 

"  Mr.  Kaltenborn,"  he  began,  abruptly,  "  I  come  to 
ask  if  there  is  any  earthly  salvation  for  such  as  I."  He 
spoke  in  a  high,  shrill  key,  with  a  querulous  quality  in 
his  voice.  "  I  come  to  ask  if  Jesus  Christ  can  do  any- 
thing for  such  as  I." 

"  Jesus  Christ  came  for  just  such  men  as  you,"  answered 
Kaltenborn,  gravely. 

Bert  stared  at  him  with  dull,  unresponsive  eyes ;  yet 
there  was  a  terrible  earnestness  and  penetration  in  his 
gaze,  such,  Kaltenborn  fancied,  as  one  might  have  before 
the  Judgment-seat. 


304  The  Darlingtons 


(C 


If  Christ  can't  save  me,  I  am  lost  —  lost  forever," 
said  the  invalid,  after  a  pause.  "  I  have  exhausted  all 
other  means.  My  manhood,  my  resolutions,  my  sacred 
vows,  my  mother,  my  sisters,  my  affianced  love,  my 
prospects,  the  opinion  of  men,  —  all  have  failed.  For 
whiskey,  the  sight  and  smell  of  which  I  loathe,  I  have 
made  a  devil  of  myself,  —  a  foul-mouthed,  beastly, 
murderous  thing.  I  have  torn  the  hearts  of  those  I  hold 
dearest,  trampled  their  pride  in  the  dust,  and  made  them 
curse  the  day  that  I  was  born."  He  paused,  and  looked 
Kaltenborn  steadily  in  the  eye,  as  if  to  make  sure  that  he 
reahzed  the  infamy  of  this  indictment.  "  That  is  the 
kind  of  a  man  I  am  —  if  it  be  not  calumny  to  you  and 
others  of  your  race  for  me  to  call  myself  a  man." 

"Don't  abase  yourself  too  much, "  said  Kaltenborn, 
hopefully.  "  There  are  extenuating  circumstances  which 
I  and  all  your  friends  fully  recognize." 

A  bitter,  sarcastic  smile,  not  just  that  of  a  sane  man, 
spread  over  Bert's  face.  "  Abase  myself  too  much  !  Abase 
myself  too  much  ! "  he  murmured  to  himself,  musingly, 
as  though  it  were  a  joke.  Then  his  expression  suddenly 
changed,  and  he  answered  with  unaccountable  haughti- 
ness :  "  Sir,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  abase  myself  too 
much.  You  cannot  comprehend  the  depths  of  my 
depravity.  I  do  these  things  knowingly,  sir,  without 
pity  or  remorse.  When  I  am  drunk,  sir,  I  could  kill  — 
I  could  kill  — "  He  shuddered,  and  was  unable  to  go 
on.  "  I  will  not  harass  your  feelings,"  he  began  again, 
gently  this  time,  "but  I  must  say  that  I  knowingly 
and  voluntarily  — " 

"  No,  not  knowingly  and  voluntarily, "  protested  Kal- 
tenborn, emphatically,  anticipating  the  others  self- 
denunciation. 


A  Drowning  Man's  Straw        305 

"Knowingly  and  voluntarily,"  repeated  Bert,  just  as 
emphatically.  ''  When  I  take  a  drink,  I  take  it  know- 
ingly and  voluntarily.  There  is  no  force  back  of  it.  I 
toss  it  off  as  freely,  as  carelessly,  as  I  would  a  cup  of  tea. 
I  know  what  I  am  doing  just  as  well  as  you  would. 
There  is  no  force,  I  say,  no  burning  thirst,  no  irresistible 
craving.  I  do  it  because  I  want  a  drink,  just  as  you 
might  want  one.  I  could  get  along  without  it ;  I  know 
I  ought  to  get  along  without  it.  Yet  I  take  it.  I  have 
no  strength  to  resist.  I  don't  mean  to  get  drunk.  I 
never  meant  to  get  drunk  in  my  life.  Yet  who  but  a 
hopeless  fool,"  he  cried,  passionately,  "who  but  a  moral 
degenerate,   could  go   on  deceiving  himself  for  years  ?  " 

Kaltenborn  looked  at  him  sadly.  Far  from  accepting 
Bert's  word  that  there  was  no  force,  he  saw  in  this  com- 
plete subversion  of  will  and  reason  a  most  terrible  force, 
one  that  worked  with  the  cunning  and  subtlety  of  a 
devil.  He  saw,  moreover,  —  and  the  thought  made  him 
cold  around  his  heart,  —  a  chain  of  cause  and  effect 
operating  in  young  Darlington's  brain,  without  the  co?ise?it 
of  the  man.  He  saw  a  process  of  cellular  movement 
within  Bert's  brain,  which,  given  its  excitant  —  the  sight 
or  smell  of  whiskey,  or  the  sign-board  of  a  saloon,  or 
even  something  whose  connection  with  whiskey  no  man 
could  trace  —  mechanically  sent  him  to  the  bar,  like  an 
automaton,  ordered  his  whiskey  for  him,  lifted  it  to  his 
lips,  and  poured  it  down  his  throat,  —  a  cellular  move- 
ment as  independent  of  Bert's  will  as  the  beating  of  his 
heart  or  the  filling  of  his  lungs ;  a  cellular  action  and 
interaction  established  and  perfected  by  his  grandfather. 
Likewise,  when  a  newly  born  baby  feels  the  nipple 
between  its  lips,  it  begins  to  suckle.  The  excitants  were 
different ;  the  action  was  first  nature  in  the  baby's  case, 

20 


3o6  The  Darlingtons 

second  nature  in  Bert's  ;  but  the  process  was  the  same. 
Both  were  the  result,  so  Kaltenborn  believed,  of  the 
working  of  matter,  as  simple  and  as  positive  in  action, 
and  as  scientifically  explainable,  as  the  movements  of  a 
machine. 

"  Sometimes  I  want  it,  but  say  No,"  continued  Bert, 
*^  and  keep  away  from  it  as  easily  as  you  could.  I  feel 
weak  and  tired  now,  for  instance,  from  walking  up  here. 
I  know  that  a  drink  of  whiskey  would  do  me  good.  A 
doctor  might  prescribe  it  for  anybody  else.  But  no 
power  on  earth  could  tempt  me  to  touch  it.  I  could 
look  at  it,  smell  of  it,  —  I  could  wash  my  mouth  out 
with  it,  and  not  swallow  a  drop.  But  that  means  — 
nothing  —  nothing  —  nothing.  My  appetite  is  asleep  — 
glutted.  It  is  not  it  that  thinks  whiskey  would  do  me 
good  now.  It  is  /,  my  sane  self.  I  can  refuse  myself 
But  let  it  ask  for  whiskey,  and  —  you  know  the  result. 
When  it  asks  for  whiskey,  I  know  it  in  a  minute.  I  am 
on  my  guard.  To  be  safe,  I  say  I  won't  go  down  town. 
But  I  go.  I  can't  tell  you  why.  Once  down  town,  I 
say  I  won't  go  into  a  saloon.  But  I  go.  I  can't  tell  you 
why.  I  say  I  won't  take  a  drink,  but  I  take  it.  I  walk 
up  to  the  bar  saying  that  I  won't  take  it.  I  order  the 
drink  saying  I  won't  take  it.  I  say  it  while  I  hold  the 
glass  in  my  hand.  I  say  it,  Mr.  Kaltenborn,"  he 
exclaimed,  piercingly,  "  while  the  accursed  stuff  is  run- 
ning down  my  throat.  I  say  it,  but  I  know  I  am  a 
Har." 

"  When  you  go  down  town,  do  you  know  that  you 
are  going  to  take  a  drink?  "  asked  Kaltenborn,  thought- 
fully. 

"It  may  seem  incredible  to  you,  but  I  don't.  I  in- 
dulge in  the  first  step,  flattering  myself  that  I  am  strong 


A  Drowning  Man's  Straw        307 

enough  to  refrain  from  the  second  one.  Sometimes  I  go 
down  town  just  to  prove  that  I  am  strong  enough  to  go 
and  not  drink.  I  have  never  proved  it.  I  never  shall," 
he  added,  blackly.  "  Sometimes  I  find  some  other 
excuse  for  going  —  anything  or  nothing,  it  matters 
not." 

"  The  place  for  you  to  win  victory,  Mr.  Darlington,  is 
in  the  very  first  skirmish  with  your  temptation,"  said 
Kaltenborn,  after  a  Httle  reflection.  *'  You  will  never 
win  it  anywhere  else.  Your  desire  to  prove  your  strength 
is  only  a  device  of  the  tempter  —  a  tempter  so  subtle 
that  one  is  almost  persuaded  to  believe  in  the  old  per- 
sonal devil.  You  must  recognize  that  fact,  and  you 
must  shut  resolutely  down  on  yielding  one  iota,  even  in 
your  thoughts.  It  is  easy  for  me  to  talk,  I  know,  and 
hard  for  you  to  do  ;  but  I  must  talk,  and  you  must  do. 
Don't  permit  yourself  to  think  of  going  down  town. 
Keep  yourself  in  an  elevated  state  of  mind,"  he  added, 
though  such  advice  sounded  almost  like  mockery  —  it 
was  so  hard  to  follow.  '•  Think  what  you  can  be  to  your 
friends  and  your  family.  Look  upon  yourself  as  an  in- 
strument of  God's,  with  a  given  work  to  do.  Think 
constantly  of  His  watching  you.  Remember  that  He  is 
with  you  in  your  struggle,  that  He  is  m  you.  He  made 
you  for  a  purpose,  and  He  will  not  lightly  let  you  miss 
that  purpose.  You  may  think  yourself  the  victim  of  a 
law.  If  you  are,  it  is  a  broken  law.  Remember  that  the 
laws  of  the  universe  are  but  His  will ;  that  they  are  all 
beneficent ;  that  they  are  working  in  you  to  help  you  in 
your  fight,  if  you  get  into  position  to  be  helped." 

He  paused,  wondering  if  he  had  told  the  strict  truth. 
He  wondered  if  those  very  laws  were  not  working  for 
the  destruction  of  this  perverted  youth,  in  order  that  the 


308  The  Darlingtons 

perversion  might  not  spread.  He  wondered  if  that 
complex  system  of  Cause  and  Effect,  popularly  known 
as  Habit ;  if  that  unconscious,  volitionless,  cellular  move- 
ment which  he  had  been  thinking  of  a  moment  before, 
was  really  hurrying  this  poor  wretch  on  to  destruction. 

Bert  wearily  shook  his  head  at  Kaltenborn's  conclu- 
sion. "I  have  done  it  all,"  he  said.  "That  and  a 
thousand  times  more.  I  have  a  book  at  home  in  which 
I  have  written  out  every  sentiment  I  could  think  of  that 
would  lift  a  man  above  a  brute,  —  all  my  love,  hopes,  and 
ambitions  ;  my  expectation  of  some  day  being  a  husband 
and  a  father ;  my  awful  responsibility  if  those  unborn  in- 
nocents receive  this  legacy  from  me  ;  my  hopes  of  heaven, 
with  the  dear  one  of  my  choice  and  my  family ;  everything 
that  could  stir  my  soul  I  have  written  down  there,  and 
taken  the  most  solemn  vow  that  I  would  read  it  all  over 
when  I  was  tempted.  I  have  vowed  that  even  if  I 
yielded,  I  would  read  it  over  once  again,  thoughtfully 
and  solemnly,  before  I  took  a  drink,  in  the  hope  that  I 
might  be  saved  at  the  last  moment.  It  has  failed.  I 
don't  read  it. 

"To  school  my  will,"  he  continued,  after  a  moment, 
"  I  have  assigned  myself  a  thousand  useless  tasks,  to  be 
gone  through  with  every  day.  I  swing  my  Indian  clubs 
a  certain  number  of  times ;  I  count  up  to  a  certain  num- 
ber ;  I  repeat  quotations  over  and  over ;  I  wash  my 
hands  and  face  and  teeth  at  certain  hours  —  many  times 
oftener  than  is  necessary.  I  do,  I  say,  a  thousand  use- 
less, even  repugnant,  things  to  school  my  will.  I  have 
performed  these  tasks  faithfully  for  weeks  and  months. 
But  infallibly  the  time  comes  when  these  things  seem  too 
absurd,  too  childish,  too  useless,  to  be  continued,  and  I 
give  them  up.     But  whether  I  give  them  up  or  not,  I 


A  Drowning  Man's  Straw       309 

drink  just  the  same.  No,"  he  repeated,  shaking  his  head 
once  more,  "  I  cannot  do  it  alone.  Jesus  Christ  must 
save  me,  or  I  am  lost." 

"Christ  can  save  you,  and  will,"  said  Kaltenborn. 
"  But  you  must  let  him  do  it  in  His  own  way.     I  must 
tell  you  plainly,  too,  in  common  honesty,  that  you  must 
look  for  no  miracle.    To  throw  yourself  upon  your  knees 
and  confess  your  weakness  to  Him,  and  leave  it  all  with 
Him,  hoping  thus  to  arouse  His  compassion  and  to  be 
saved  without  an  effort  of  your  own,  will  not  do.     I  am 
tempted  to  wish  that  I  could  tell  you  that  He  would  thus 
miraculously  preserve  you,  for  I  know  you  have  fought 
hard.     But,  after  all,  that  would  be  only  my  way  of  hav* 
ing  it  done  —  only  the  way  that  men,  in  times  past,  have 
thought  it  was  done,  and  which  some  still  think  is  the 
way.     We  are  now  finding  out  that  God  does  it  differ- 
ently, and  need  I  say  how  much  more  grandly?     Were 
man  saved  by  the  arbitrary  act  of  God,  he  would  sink 
into  the  insignificance  of  a  puppet  worked  by  wires.    As  it 
is,  his  possibiHties  of  development  are  unbounded.     You 
must  get  Christ  into   you.     That  sounds  trite,  I  know, 
but  it  means  something.     Think  on  the  noble  morality 
and  philanthropy   He  taught,  away  back  in  those  dark 
days,  and  in  time  you  will  find  yourself  in  the  grasp  of 
an  admiration  and  inspiration  such  as  you  do  not  now 
dream  of,  and  which  will  lift  you  high  above  the  mire  in 
which  you  have  grovelled  —  in  which  we  are  all  prone  to 
grovel  in  different  ways.     You  will  find  yourself  always 
in  that  elevated  mood  of  which  I  just  spoke,  when  the 
very  thought  of  sin  will  be  abhorrent  to  you." 

Bert  stared  at  the  floor,  without  a  change  of  feature. 
"  Your  views  of  Christ  are  mine,"  he  answered,  in  a  dead 
tone.     "  I  never  believed  He  saved  by  miracle.     But  I 


3 1  o  The  Darlingtons 


thought  —  I  hoped  I  might  be  wrong.     It  is  only  by 
miracle  that  I  can  be  saved." 

Kaltenborn  did  not  answer  at  once.  Never  before 
had  the  utility  of  his  rehgious  belief  been  put  to  such  a 
test.  His  unorthodox  views  had  bothered  him  little  in 
his  ministry.  By  glossing  them  over,  or  by  keeping 
them  in  the  background,  he  had  kept  within  the  pale  of 
his  church,  just  as  many  another  deep-thinking  m.inister 
has  had  to  do  in  order  not  to  destroy  his  usefulness. 
But  to-day,  with  this  naked  soul  before  him,  he  was 
forced  to  declare  himself  to  the  last  word,  and  as  a  result 
the  seeker  of  salvation  before  him  had  pronounced  him- 
self lost.  The  moisture  stood  upon  Kaltenborn's  brow, 
but  he  manfully  put  aside  the  temptation  to  offer  lying 
words  of  comfort. 

*'  When  you  talk  in  that  way,"  he  returned,  gently  but 
firmly,  "you  simply  reject  God's  way,  and  declare 
against  it  in  favor  of  man's.  Because  Christ  does  not 
save  miraculously,  you  believe  He  does  not  save  at  all. 
Is  not  that  an  impious,  puerile  thought?  Christ  came 
and  lived  a  perfect  life  to  show  all  men  what  they  can 
do.  He  struggled  with  temptation  until  He  sweat  drops 
of  blood.  Have  you  done  as  much?  Yet  He  won, 
and  died  blameless.  Does  not  such  a  story  thrill  you 
and  uplift  you?  If  not,  it  is  only  because  you  do 
not  comprehend  its  magnificence.  Sometimes  I  am 
uplifted  by  it  until  I  seem  to  hear  the  rustle  of  angels' 
wings." 

"  Christ   was   born   free  from  sin,"   answered   Bert, 
doggedly.     "  I  came  with  this  curse  in  my  blood." 

"  He  was  not  born   passionless,"  answered   Kalten- 
born, quickly.     "  He  was  born  with  all  the  passions  of 


men." 


A  Drowning  Man's  Straw        311 

"Don't  you  believe  that  Christ  was  sinless?"  asked 
Bert,  with  a  feeble  gleam  of  interest  in  his  eyes. 

"  Not  in  the  accepted  sense,"  said  Kaltenborn.  "  That 
Christ  stalked  through  the  world,  a  mere  reflection  of 
God,  a  divinity  masked  in  human  flesh,  incapable  of 
sin,  held  up  by  something  that  is  denied  you  and  me, 
and  yet  asks  you  and  me  to  be  like  Him,  is  the  cruellest, 
most  abhorrent  thing  that  I  can  conceive.  For  God  to 
ask  us  to  equal  such  a  creation  would  be  a  mockery ; 
and  for  Him  to  punish  us  for  not  equalling  it  would  be  a 
piece  of  injustice  worthy  of  a  pagan  despot." 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence,  and  then  Kaltenborn 
continued  gravely,  "  That  is  my  beHef,  Mr.  DarHngton. 
It  has  strengthened  me,  and  it  will  strengthen  you. 
Christ  was  great  only  as  other  men  have  been  great, 
though  we  must  remember  that  He  was  incomparably 
the  greatest  of  them  all.  The  example  of  any  great  man 
ought  to  help  you,  but  the  example  of  Christ  most  of 
all." 

"  I  thought  of  joining  the  church,"  said  Bert,  gloomily. 
"  But  I  don't  see  the  use  if  your  views  are  right." 

"Why  not?  Whatever  may  be  its  errors,  the  church 
is  Christ's  great  organ.  While  humanity  is  weak  wher- 
ever you  find  it,  yet  you  will  meet  in  the  church  examples 
of  Christlike  sweetness  and  piety  and  exaltation  that  will 
surprise  you,  and  do  you  good.  They  are  not  numerous, 
I  will  confess,  but  you  will  find  some." 

"If  I  joined  at  all,  I  wanted  to  join  your  church,"  said 
Bert. 

"  Why  not  your  own  —  your  mother's  and  your  sisters', 
where  your  friends  and  associates  are  ?  " 

"  Why  not  yours  ?  "  retorted  Bert. 

"Join  that,  if  you  will;  but  I  think  you  would  feel 


312  The  Darlingtons 

more  at  home  in  the  Episcopal  church.  Our  church 
forbids  certain  pleasures  that  you  have  been  brought  up 
to  consider  harmless.  The  rules  might  bear  on  you 
rather  heavily,  and  I  want  to  make  it  as  easy  for  you  as 
possible.  But  whatever  church  you  join,  or  whether  you 
join  any  or  not,  I  have  this  to  say  as  a  last  word.  You 
are  weak  and  despondent  yet.  Don't  worry  too  much 
about  yourself  now.  Abide  your  time  ;  wait  until  your 
strength  returns,  and  I  will  pledge  myself,  with  your  aid, 
to  overcome  this  weakness  of  yours  yet.  When  you  feel 
your  appetite  stirring  come  to  me,  at  any  hour  of  the  day 
or  night.  I  shall  not  think  you  weak  or  foolish.  Rather, 
I  shall  think  you  strong  and  wise.  If  you  will  do  this, 
I  am  positive  you  cannot  fall.  If  you  don't  think  it 
necessary  to  come  to  me,  —  that  is,  if  your  symptoms 
are  not  alarming,  —  go  to  your  sister  Carol.  She  is  a 
noble  girl,  and  confession  to  her  will  do  you  good.  It 
will  rout  that  devil  in  you,  and  give  you  a  spiritual 
uplifting." 

^^  She  has  helped  me,"  said  Bert,  gratefully. 

"  She  will  do  it  again,"  said  Kaltenborn,  hopefully. 
"  We  will  all  do  it,  and  we  '11  win." 

For  ten  minutes  more  Kaltenborn  talked  on  earnestly 
and  enthusiastically,  until  his  strong  and  fearless  nature 
communicated  some  of  its  fire  to  his  listener  and  a  ray 
of  hope  shone  faintly  from  his  eyes.  Then  his  face 
unexpectedly  fell  again. 

"  What  is  it?  "  asked  Kaltenborn,  intuitively. 

"  I  wanted  to  go  to  Elsie  with  some  new  hope  this 
time.  I  wanted  to  tell  her  that  I  was  going  to  lean  on 
Christ  from  now  on.  I  wanted  something  definite.  She 
can't  have  any  more  faith  in  me  unless  I  offer  her  some- 
thing of  that  kind,"  he  exclaimed,  bitterly,  bursting  into 


A  Drowning  Man's  Straw        3 1  3 

tears.  ''  There  is  nothing  in  me  that  she  can  respect 
any  more.  She  would  have  faith  in  somebody  else,  or 
in  Christ.  This  plan  we  have  talked  over  may  help  me, 
but  its  success  depends  a  good  deal  on  w^,  and  that,  — 
that  will  destroy  her  faith." 

"  You  are  leaning  on  Christ,  and  you  may  tell  her  so." 

"  Not  in  the  way  she  leans,"  he  answered,  dispiritedly. 

"  There 's  less  difference  than  you  think,  in  practice," 
said  Kaltenborn,  encouragingly.  *'  It 's  in  the  theory 
that  there  seems  such  a  wide  divergence." 

"  She  may  have  thrown  me  over  altogether,"  mused 
Bert,  gloomily.     '•'  If  she  has  — " 

"  If  she  has,  you  will  be  a  man,  just  the  same,"  inter- 
posed Kaltenborn.  '•  If  she  loves  you,  she  will  not  lose 
sight  of  you,  though  she  should  forbid  you  to  enter  her 
house.  And  when  you  have  conquered,  you  can  go  to 
her  and  offer  her  a  thousand  times  more  than  you  can 
to-day.  But  go  to  her  to-day,  or  some  time  soon.  There 
is  no  need  of  despairing  yet,  for  if  there  is  any  being  this 
side  of  heaven  Christ-like  in  forgiveness,  it  is  a  woman 
who  loves." 

'•  Christ  himself  would  have  thrown  me  over  long  ago," 
said  Bert,  simply,  "  if  I  had  broken  my  word  to  Him  as 
often  as  I  have  to  her." 

Kaltenborn  smiled.  ''  You  have  n't  tried  Him  yet,"  he 
answered. 

Bert  rose,  and  buttoned  his  overcoat  with  white,  trem- 
bling fingers.  There  was  not  much  in  his  face  to  give 
Kaltenborn  hope,  but  the  minister  remembered  that  the 
young  fellow  was  yet  sick.  "I  don't  know,"  said  Bert, 
rather  vaguely.  '•  If  your  views  are  right,  —  and  I  believe 
they  are,  —  I  don't  know  whether  Christ  can  help  me  or 
not.    I  think  I  've  gone  too  far.    I  fancy  the  devil  within 


314  The  Darlingtons 

me  is  too  strong  to  be  exorcised.  I  fancy  the  way  to 
kill  that  devil  is  to  kill  me,"  he  said,  with  a  tone  and 
expression  that  made  Kaltenborn's  blood  run  cold,  "  and 
I  fancy  that 's  the  way  Christ  will  do  it.  But  maybe  not, 
maybe  not,"  he  added,  as  if  to  spare  the  other's  feelings. 
"  Good-by."  He  held  out  his  thin,  bloodless  hand, 
with  a  wan  smile  which  pathetically  suggested  his  old 
bonhomie. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

WHERE   FORGIVENESS   IS   DIVINE 

Elsie  Clifford  knelt  at  her  bedside  on  the  second 
night  after  the  memorable  speed  trial — she  had  spent 
the  first  night  with  Carol  —  and  in  language  as  simple  as 
she  would  have  addressed  to  an  earthly  parent,  she 
asked  her  Heavenly  Father  to  tell  her  what  to  do.  Her 
decision  seemed  to  her  so  momentous  for  good  or  for 
evil,  so  unique  in  the  experiences  of  mankind,  that  she 
would  scarcely  have  been  surprised  had  God  taken 
special  cognizance  of  it,  and  spoken  to  her  out  of  the 
clouds  as  He  spoke  to  the  prophets  of  old.  But  He 
did  not  so  speak,  and  she  rose  with  the  weight  of  woe 
still  bearing  down  upon  her  brave  heart. 

For  hours  she  lay  and  wrestled  with  the  great  problem 
—  to  give  Bert  up,  or  not  to  give  him  up.  The  prob- 
able effect  of  her  dismissal  upon  him ;  the  acceleration 
of  his  ruin;  the  effect  her  marriage  would  have  upon 
herself  in  case  he  never  reformed ;  the  chances  of  his 
reforming  after  she  had  married  him  ;  what  were  her 
rights,  and  what  her  duties ;  how  much  she  should  suf- 
fer for  his  sake  ;  how  much  she  ought  to  deny  her  love 
for  her  own  sake,  —  these  and  a  thousand  other  per- 
plexing questions  she  went  over  again  and  again. 

In  the  stillness  and  darkness  and  solitude  of  night, 
and  in  her  excited  condition,  things  lost  their  true  pro- 
portions.    She  seemed  to  escape  from  herself,  and  to 


316  The  Darlingtons 

appeal  to  herself  as  another  person.  At  one  time  she 
half  fancied  she  had  married  Bert  already,  and  looking 
down  the  vista  of  time,  she  beheld  herself  as  the  ances- 
tress of  a  great  family.  She  saw  the  members  of  this 
family  playing,  toiling,  loving,  marrying,  failing,  suc- 
ceeding, dying.  But  behind  and  through  all  she  saw 
the  workings  of  that  curse  let  into  their  veins  by  a  weak 
forefather,  through  the  connivance  of  a  weak  mother  — 
she,  Elsie  Clifford  —  generations  before  they  were  born. 
She  hearkened  for  their  curses  —  for  certainly  she 
should  be  cursed  —  until  in  her  half  delirious  condition 
she  seemed  really  to  hear  a  confused  murmur  come 
faintly  up  from  the  far-distant  future.  God  had  not 
spoken,  but  His  all-seeing  eye  was  upon  her,  and  she 
dared  not  shirk.  She  would  not  shirk  either,  but  what 
was  shirking,  and  what  was  not? 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  a  hysterical  fear 
that  some  catastrophe  was  about  to  befall  took  posses- 
sion of  her.  She  first  thought  of  screaming  for  her 
grandmother,  for  it  seemed  that  she  must  have  some 
hum.an  presence  near  her  or  go  mad.  But  reason  had 
not  yet  left  her,  and  reflecting  that  a  scream  would 
frighten  her  grandmother,  she  slipped  from  bed,  and 
with  fast-beating  heart  and  trembling  knees,  glided 
noiselessly  down  the  hall  to  her  grandmother's  door. 
There  the  thought  struck  her  that  her  grandfather  would 
be  sure  to  grumble  if  she  awakened  him.  She  smiled 
that  she  should  stop  to  consider  such  a  trifle  as  that  in 
such  a  crisis,  and  then  she  thought  how  strange  it  was 
that  she  should  be  standing  there  smiKng  when  but  a 
moment  before  she  had  been  so  frightened.  She  felt  so 
much  better  that  she  went  back  to  bed  again ;  but  no 
sooner  had  she  closed  her  eyes  than  the  torturing  fan- 


Where  Forgiveness  is  Divine      317 

cies  came  trooping  back  to  her ;  and  it  was  with  an 
overpowering  sense  of  thankfuhiess  that  she  saw  her 
grandmother  enter  the  door. 

"Why  don't  you  go  to  sleep,  child?"  asked  Mrs. 
Clifford.     "I  thought  I  heard  you  up  a  moment  ago." 

"  I  'm  so  nervous  ! "  exclaimed  the  girl,  clinging  to 
the  old  lady's  hand- 
Mrs.  Clifford  got  into  the  bed,  and  drawing  Elsie 
close  to  her  bosom,  said,  "  You  won't  be  nervous  now. 
Go  to  sleep.  If  there  is  anything  that  bothers  you,  we 
will  decide  it  all  to-morrow."  And  in  less  than  five 
minutes  the  tired  body  was  in  repose. 

Nothing  further  was  said  about  her  trouble  in  the 
morning,  however ;  and  of  the  solution  she  eventually 
reached,  Elsie  said  nothing  to  her  grandmother,  and  her 
grandmother  asked  nothing.  Indeed  there  was  a 
chastened  and  spiritual  air  about  the  girl  which  forbade 
any  inquisitiveness.  Even  the  old  man,  whose  affec- 
tions had  long  since  dried  up  and  blown  away,  and  who 
practically  regarded  love  as  a  weakness  of  youth,  put 
away  his  usual  querulousness  on  the  subject,  and  main- 
tained silence. 

It  was  a  soft,  warm  evening,  and  Elsie  was  sitting  on 
the  veranda  for  the  first  time  after  dark  that  spring, 
when  Bert  Darlington  stopped  at  the  gate.  As  he  came 
slowly  down  the  walk,  with  cane  and  overcoat,  the  collar 
of  the  latter  turned  up,  Elsie  quickly  rose  and  de- 
scended to  the  bottom  step,  where  she  stood  with  out- 
stretched arms,  in  a  playful,  endearing  manner. 

"  Welcome,  truant !  "  she  exclaimed,  cheerily. 

"  A  welcome  is  more  than  a  truant  deserves,"  he 
answered,  with  a  wan  smile,  taking  both  her  hands  in 
his.     For  a  moment  they  stood  thus,  face  to  face,  in  an 


3  1 8  The  Darlingtons 

embarrassing  silence.  Then  Bert  added,  "  I  can't  sit 
out  here.  The  doctor  has  ordered  me  to  keep  out  of 
the  night  air." 

"  And  did  you  suppose  I  was  going  to  let  you  sit  out 
here?"  she  asked,  with  tender  indignation,  playfully 
turning  him  toward  the  door.  "  March  !  and  be  care- 
ful that  you  don't  bump  your  nose  in  the  dark."  As 
she  lighted  a  lamp,  she  ran  on,  "  I  'm  so  glad  you  came. 
I  was  just  a  little  lonely.  It  is  such  a  lovely  evening 
that  grandfather  and  grandmother  thought  they  would 
walk  over  to  Mr.  Everett's."  She  paused  to  stir  the  fire 
a  little  in  the  next  room.  "  This  fire  is  about  out.  We 
thought  we  'd  let  it  go  out,  but  grandfather  is  a  little 
afraid  of  a  cold  snap  yet.  He  says  we  had  just  such 
weather  as  this  in  '54,  when  everything  was  killed  by  a 
late  frost,"  she  added,  laughing.  "  Come  out  here  — 
it 's  warmer." 

"It's  warm  enough  here,"  answered  Bert,  getting 
slowly  out  of  his  coat,  though  Elsie  flew  back  to  help 
him. 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  seen  him  since  she  bore 
him  to  the  cab  floor,  on  that  fateful  ride.  His  wasted 
appearance  smote  her  heart,  and  she  could  have  cried 
then  and  there  but  for  her  resolution  to  avoid  anything 
tragical  at  this  meeting.  So  she  slipped  up  to  him, 
instead,  and  placing  her  hands  on  his  shoulders  looked 
up  into  his  face  with  a  whimsical  smile.  "You  poor 
boy  !  "  she  murmured.  "  You  have  been  sicker  than  I 
dreamed  of." 

After  a  moment  or  two  of  this,  during  which  Bert 
seemed  reasonably  cheerful,  he  suddenly  exclaimed  in 
leaden  tones,  "  Elsie,  I  can't  keep  this  deception  up 
any  longer.     What  have  you  decided  to  do  ?  " 


Where  Forgiveness  is  Divine      319 

*^What  have  you  decided  to  ask  me  to  do?"  she 
returned,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  To  follow  your  conscience/'  he  answered.  '^  I 
have  forfeited  every  right  I  ever  had." 

"  Herbert,  you  have  not  given  up  ?  "  she  asked,  not 
in  dismay  or  apprehension,  but  with  soft,  sweet  reproach. 

"Just  about,"  he  answered,  despondently. 

"  And  you  are  not  going  to  try  any  more  ?  "  she  con- 
tinued, with  the  same  gentle,  hurt  look. 

"  I  have  tried  a  long  time,"  he  returned. 

"And  I  have  forgiven  you  a  long  time,  dear,"  she 
rejoined. 

"  Yes.  If  there  had  been  a  spark  of  manhood  left  in 
me,  that  would  have  saved  me.     But  it  did  not." 

"  Bert ! "  she  exclaimed,  abruptly,  shutting  her  lips 
firmly,  "  do  you  suppose  that  I  would  have  struggled 
with  my  heart  all  these  months  and  years  as  I  have  for 
the  sake  of  a  man  who  says  he  will  not  try  any  more? 
Do  you  suppose  I  would  have  done  that  for  a  coward  ? 
You  have  no  right  to  give  up.  When  you  give  up,  you 
are  throwing,  not  only  yourself,  but  me  away.  If  you 
do  it,  Herbert,"  she  continued,  solemnly  and  inexor- 
ably, "  all  your  past  will  sink  into  insignificance  com- 
pared with  the  dastardliness  and  cowardliness  of  this 
last  act." 

"  That 's  true,"  he  answered,  unmoved.  "  A  natural 
climax  in  depravity." 

"'  A  natural  climax  !  "  she  exclaimed,  scornfully,  the 
memory  of  her  multiplied  sufferings  rushing  in  upon 
her.  "  How  can  you  think  of  your  noble  mother, 
whose  blood  is  in  your  veins,  and  give  voice  to  such  a 
horrible  thought  as  that?  " 

"  How  could  I  think  of  her  and  do  the  other  things  I 


320  The  Darlingtons 

have  done?"  he  asked,  but  her  passion  was  stirring 
him.  After  a  moment  his  face  perceptibly  softened, 
and  looking  into  her  eyes,  he  said,  with  a  sad  smile,  "  It 
does  n't  make  much  difference  what  we  call  it,  Elsie,  or 
how  we  explain  it.     I  'm  about  done  for." 

There  was  something  deeply  pathetic  in  his  smile. 
Elsie  arose  abruptly,  crossed  swiftly  to  his  chair,  and 
knelt  beside  him,  with  her  head  on  his  bosom. 

"  Oh,  Bert,  how  I  love  you  !  "  she  moaned. 

He  supported  her  with  one  arm.  With  the  other 
hand  he  smoothed  her  hair.  It  struck  him  at  the  time 
as  a  strange  thing  —  indeed,  as  an  evidence  of  his 
depravity  —  that  he  should  be  sitting  there  so  cold  and 
self-controlled  while  her  heart  was  breaking. 

"What  do  you  love  in  me?"  he  asked,  musingly, 
after  a  little.  She  did  not  answer,  and  he  continued, 
"What  is  there  about  me  to  love?  Just  tell  me  one 
thing."  Still  she  did  not  answer,  and  he  went  on,  "  If 
I  should  die  to-morrow,  do  you  know  what  people 
would  say?  They  would  say,  'Poor  devil !  I  feel  sorry 
for  Elsie  CHfford,  but  there  are  some  things  in  this 
v/orld  worse  than  death.'     That 's  what  they  would  say." 

"  Don't !  "  she  whispered,  pressing  tighter. 

He  fell  into  a  moody  silence.  Elsie  held  herself 
motionless  against  him.  The  house  was  as  noiseless  as 
a  tomb.  Some  one  walked  by,  and  the  footfalls  seemed 
to  echo  dismally.  Then  a  vehicle  rolled  briskly  by. 
After  that  all  was  still  again  until  Elsie's  pet  kitten  came 
into  the  room,  and  rubbed  herself  against  Bert's  foot 
with  a  plaintive  mew.  This  sound  seemed  to  recall 
Elsie,  and  she  arose  quietly  and  went  back  to  her  chair. 
Bert  watched  her  silently  for  some  minutes  —  she  did 
not  look  at  him  —  and  then  went  over  and  sat  down  on 


Where  Forgiveness  is  Divine     321 

the  arm  of  her  chah".  There  was  an  expression  on  her 
face  which  he  had  never  seen  there  before,  and  which 
he  did  not  want  to  see  again. 

''  I  did  n't  mean  it,"  he  said.  '^  I  am  not  as  bad  as 
that.  I  have  not  forgotten  all  that  you  have  suffered 
for  me.  As  long  as  I  have  memory  I  shall  not  forget  it. 
I  felt  strong  this  morning,  and  all  day,  but  somehow  as 
soon  as  I  entered  the  gate  a  great  wave  of  despondency 
came  over  me.  I  never  felt  quite  so  depressed  in  all 
my  life  before.  I  am  sick  yet,  Elsie,  and  weak.  Be  as 
charitable  as  you  can." 

'•  I  am  all  charity  for  you,"  she  answered. 

She  dropped  her  head  softly  upon  his  shoulder,  not 
so  much  in  affection  as  in  weariness.  Later  she  laid 
her  hand  upon  his  neck.  Next  she  pressed  his  cheek 
with  the  same  hand,  and  turned  his  head  until  his  lips 
were  against  hers.  There  she  held  them,  for  a  long, 
long  time. 

"  God  bless  you  and  keep  you  !  "  she  said,  softly. 


21 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE   EVANGELIST 

Carol  Darlington  scarcely  saw  Kaltenborn  for  more 
than  three  weeks.  His  presenc'e  was  required  nightly 
at  the  church.  The  evangelist  had  come,  and  the 
revival  was  in  full  progress.  The  church  was  filled  to 
the  doors  every  night,  and  the  mourners'  benches  were 
crowded  with  penitents. 

During  the  third  week  of  his  ministrations,  the  evan- 
gelist was  stricken  with  a  hoarseness  which  incapacitated 
him  for  pubhc  speaking,  and  it  was  announced  on  a 
Thursday  that  there' would  be  no  services  on  the  two 
following  nights.  On  the  next  night  Kaltenborn  left  his 
co-worker,  the  evangelist,  who  was  being  entertained  by 
Mrs.  Hicks,  to  amuse  himself  as  best  he  could,  and  went 
to  see  Carol. 

He  found  her  in  high  spirits,  and,  it  seemed  to  him,  in 
a  strongly  materialistic  mood.  At  least,  there  was  a  de- 
cided contrast  between  the  atmosphere  of  her  music-room 
and  that  of  the  scenes  he  had  been  watching  nightly  for 
over  two  weeks.  Before  the  revival  meetings  began, 
Carol  had  been  inclined  to  be  slightly  jocular  with  refer- 
ence to  them,  and  to-night  she  insisted,  with  a  subtle 
gleam  in  her  eye,  on  talking  about  them,  though  Kalten- 
born would  have  preferred  to  talk  about  anything  else. 

Among  the  converts  was  a  notorious  trio  of  sisters 
who  had  bent  their  knees  at  the  mourners'  bench  more 


The  Evangelist  323 

than  once,  but  who  had  as  often  strayed  away  from 
the  precepts  there  inculcated.  With  regard  to  this  ad- 
dition to  Kaltenborn's  flock,  Carol  was  especially  viva- 
cious and  sarcastic.  Kaltenborn  let  her  run  on,  without 
attempting  much  defence  at  first,  preferring  to  watch  the 
play  of  her  handsome  features,  and  to  smile  in  an  indul- 
gent and  superior  way  now  and  then.  It  seemed  to  him 
a  great  privilege  to  be  in  a  position  to  smile  so  upon 
such  a  woman.  A  few  short  months  before,  such  a  thing 
would  have  seemed  impossible  ;  but  here  he  was  doing 
it,  in  the  most  natural  way  in  the  world,  and  she  seemed 
to  enjoy  it. 

"Well,  I  'm  very  glad  of  one  thing,"  he  said,  finally, 
falling  into  a  more  comfortable  position. 

"In  connection  with  the  Hyers  girls?"  she  asked, 
quizzingly.     "  By  all  means  let  us  have  it." 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  don't  mean  more  than  two  per 
cent,  of  what  you  say." 

"The  margin  of  sincerity  you  allow  me  is  extremely 
small,  sir,"  she  returned,  with  a  charming  pretence  of 
severity  that  would  have  deceived  no  one. 

"  You  won't  say  you  are  glad  they  are  not  in  your 
church,"  he  ventured. 

*'I  am,"  she  answered,  promptly, — "very  glad,  in- 
deed." 

"  Would  you  see  them  out  of  the  church  altogether 
before  you  would  have  them  in  your  church  ?  " 

"  I  would." 

"Why?"  he  asked,  soberly. 

"  Because  they  are  detestable  hypocrites.  They  have 
gone  through  a  so-called  conversion  nearly  as  many 
times  as  there  have  been  evangelists  in  Ashboro.  They 
are  characterless,  and  they  will  stay  in  the  church  as 


324  The  Darlingtons 


long  as  their  present  fright  lasts,  and  no  longer.  They 
are  dirty  and  slovenly,  in  spite  of  the  finery  and  perfume 
they  manage  to  secure  by  unknown  means.  They  are 
dishonest ;  they  outrage  their  neighbors  by  their  scan- 
dalous conduct,  and  they  are  altogether  a  disgrace  to 
the  town.  I  think  it  is  a  shame  for  a  decent,  virtuous 
woman,  whose  tender  conscience  brings  her  to  the  altar 
for  some  peccadillo,  to  have  to  kneel  there  with  those 
shameless  creatures." 

Kaltenborn  had  no  desire  to  disparage  this  righteous 
burst  of  indignation,  but  he  asked,  quietly,  ^'  Do  you 
think  those  women  are  hypocritical  when  they  kneel  at 
the  altar  and  confess  their  sins  before  their  fellow-towns- 
men?" 

"I  don't  know  that  they  are  hypocritical,"  she 
answered,  "  but  it  is  simply  another  manifestation  of  the 
animal  nature  which  has  made  them  what  they  are. 
They  are  scared." 

^'  Don't  you  suppose  they  have  regrets  for  their  mis- 
spent lives  ?  The  Bible  says  that  the  way  of  the  trans- 
gressor is  hard.  You  and  I  know  that  it  is  so.  May 
they  not  have  found  it  out  ?  Don't  you  suppose  that 
they  sometimes  have  longings  for  something  higher 
and  nobler  than  their  base  round  of  hfe?  When  they 
see  women  on  the  street  who  are  respected  and  ad- 
mired by  the  community,  don't  you  suppose  they  have 
a  desire,  weak  and  vague,  perhaps,  to  be  like  them  ?  " 

"I  suppose  they  do,  of  course,"  she  answered,  yield- 
ing. "  But  their  desire  is  so  appallingly  weak  and  vague 
and  fleeting  that  I  have  n't  any  faith  in  it  —  or  patience 
with  it.  And  I  '11  tell  you  plainly,  Mr.  Kaltenborn,  that 
if  one  of  the  requisites  of  a  Christian  life  is  to  love  such 
people,  I  can  never  be  a  Christian.     I  loathe  them,  and  I 


The  Evangelist  325 

can't  help  it.  I  could  give  them  money  —  though  that, 
unfortunately,  is  not  one  of  their  wants ;  I  could  even 
carry  them  food  if  they  were  sick.  But  I  should 
be  holding  my  moral  breath  until  I  got  out  of  their 
presence." 

"That  feeling  is  perfectly  natural/'  answered  Kalten- 
born,  with  a  flavor  of  sarcasm.  "  As  natural,  I  may  say, 
as  the  animalism  you  condemn  in  them.  It  is  a  feeling 
shared  by  the  mass  of  pure  women.  Yet  it  is  not 
the  spirit  which  filled  Christ  when  he  lifted  up  the 
Magdalen." 

"  There  has  been  only  one  Christ,"  she  answered. 

"  It  is  not  quite  the  spirit  which  upheld  George  Wash- 
ington during  his  eight  years'  struggle,  not  with  Eng- 
land's armies,  but  with  his  own  mutinous  soldiers,  an 
incompetent  and  helpless  Congress,  and  an  ungrateful 
country.  It  is  not  quite  the  spirit  which  has  filled  any 
of  the  world's  great  men  and  women." 

'•1  never  pretended  to  be  great,"  she  answered, 
coolly. 

"  I  wish  that  you  might." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  too  conscious  of  my  limitations,"  she 
suggested,  dryly. 

"Your  limitations  are  not  strikingly  noticeable,"  he 
returned.  "  You  are  great,  in  your  way.  You  are  a 
good  railroad  auditor,  and  I  believe  you  would  make  a 
very  good  railroad  president.  You  are  pretty  shrewd  ; 
you  have  a  will  of  your  own.  You  have  a  deep  affectional 
nature,  I  believe,  —  if  you  would  only  give  it  a  chance. 
You  are  a  little  afraid  of  being  tender,  which  is  distinctly 
antithetical  to  greatness.  But  I  should  Hke  to  see  you  a 
little  more  charitable  —  especially  toward  such  people  as 
these  Hyers  women.    I  don't  want  you  to  relax  one  jot  or 


326  The  Darlingtons 

tittle  of  that  instinctive  hatred  you  have  for  their  vices, 
for  that  hatred  in  pure  women  is  the  salvation  of  society. 
I  only  want  you  to  remember  that  these  women  did  not 
make  themselves.  Their  low  passions  and  their  lack  of 
integrity  are  a  legacy,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  from  their 
mother.  These  periodical  repentances,  which  you  re- 
gard as  so  contemptible,  are  flashes  of  their  better  nature. 
No  one  knows  when  those  flashes  will  kindle  a  fire. 
That  is  why  we  take  these  women  into  our  church, 
though  we  may  believe  that  they  will  backslide  again,  as 
they  have  done  so  often  in  the  past.  They  don't  help 
the  church  any ;  they  hurt  it,  rather,  in  the  eyes  of  many 
well-meaning  people.  But  the  church  as  an  institution 
is  not  to  be  considered  with  regard  to  benefits  and  inju- 
ries.    The  individual  is  the  object  of  our  solicitude." 

"  I  don't  feel  a  bit  complimented  by  the  pretty  things 
you  have  said,"  she  answered,  with  mock  sulkiness.  "  I 
see  the  sermon  sticking  out  of  all  of  it."  Then  she  con- 
tinued, soberly,  "  I  know  that  there  is  nothing  more  un- 
lovely than  a  cynical  or  callous  woman,  and  I  know 
that  those  are  just  my  faults.  I  try  to  overcome  them, 
but  as  long  as  they  are  in  me,  I  suppose  it  is  best  to  let 
them  come  out  —  like  bad  blood,"  she  added. 

"  Bad  blood  is  not  always  best  dealt  with  by  being  let 
out,"  answered  Kaltenborn,  smiling.  "But  as  long  as 
you  have  diagnosed  your  case  so  honestly,  I  think  you 
can  be  trusted  to  prescribe  for  it.  That  reminds  me ; 
has  your  brother  said  anything  to  you  about  the  talk 
we  had  ?  " 

"He  told  me  all  about  it,"  she  answered.  She 
paused,  and  he  fancied  she  was  about  to  express  her 
gratitude ;  but  she  said,  instead,  "  Some  of  your  relig- 
ious tenets  somewhat  staggered  me.'' 


The  Evangelist  327 

"  Why  ?  "  he  asked,  slightly  resenting  her  tone. 
"As     coming    from     a    Methodist    minister,"    she 
explained.     "  Your  ideas  of  Christ  are  a  good  deal  like 
my  own  —  those  I  keep  away  down  on  the  bottom.     I 
suppose  we  are  both  heretics." 

"  That  word  *  heretic '  is  not  the  bugbear  it  once 
was,"  he  answered,  shortly. 

"  No,  but  it  has  power  enough  yet  to  throw  you  out 
of  your  pulpit,"  she  said.  She  looked  at  him  closely, 
as  though  estimating  the  effect  of  her  words. 

"  It  would  n't  be  the  first  time  I  have  suffered  expul- 
sion for  my  opinions,"  he  answered. 

"  Where,  before  ?  "  she  asked,  not  quite  understand- 
ing his  allusion. 

"  Out  of  the  brewery,  for  one  place,"  he  answered, 
with  a  quaint  smile.     "  Out  of  the  law,  for  another." 

"  And  if  they  throw  you  out  of  the  church,  where  will 
you  go?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  don't  know.     What  would  you  suggest?" 

"You  might  try  railroading,"  she  answered,  whimsi- 
cally. 

"  Would  you  give  me  a  job  ?  " 

"What  can  you  do?"  she  asked. 

"  Anything." 

"  I  don't  know.  There  are  so  many  who  can  do 
that.  You  might  begin  with  the  presidency,  though. 
Almost  anybody  can  be  a  president.  Then,  if  you  suc- 
ceeded at  that,  we  should  promote  you  until  you  finally 
became  a  brakeman  or  a  fireman.  Those  are  the  most 
trying  positions  on  the  road,  as  the  gentlemen  who  fill 
them  will  tell  you  themselves." 

"  I  think  I  should  prefer  to  start  in  as  assistant  audi- 
tor," he  said,  smiling. 


328  The  Darlingtons 


"What  are  your  special  qualifications  for  that 
position?"  There  was  an  almost  imperceptible  change 
in  her  light,  bantering  tone  —  a  httle  stiffening,  as  it 
were. 

"Have  you  never  discovered  any?"  he  asked. 
They  were  sitting  near  together,  and  he  looked  her 
squarely,  though  not  boldly,  in  the  eyes.  She  quietly 
lowered  the  dark-fringed  curtains,  and  smoothed  the 
flounce  of  her  skirt. 

"  If  I  have,  would  you  want  me  to  say  so  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Her  lashes  lifted  momentarily,  revealing  a  dark  and 
enlarged  pupil.  "  I  have,"  she  said.  It  was  still  play, 
perhaps. 

"  What  are  they?  "  he  asked. 

Again  her  flounce  needed  attention,  but  this  time 
she  gathered  it  fold  by  fold  between  her  thumb  and 
finger.  "  Are  you  not  inquisitive .? "  she  asked,  in 
an  undertone. 

"  Am  I  ?  " 

*'  I  think  you  are,"  she  murmured. 

He  paused.  The  animation  slowly  died  from  his 
face,  and  then  he  assumed  an  upright  position  again, 
thus  taking  his  face  further  from  hers.  "  I  think  so, 
too,"  he  said. 

When  he  left,  shortly  after,  Carol's  cheeks  still 
retained  a  feverish  glow,  and  her  eyes  an  unusual 
brightness. 

"I  will  bring  those  poor  people's  names  that  you 
wanted  from  mamma  around  to-morrow  morning,"  she 
said,  at  parting. 

"  Be  sure,"  he  admonished  her,  "because  they  need 
immediate  attention.     Or  I  can  call  and  get  them." 


The  Evangelist  329 

"  No,  I  '11  bring  them  in  the  morning,"  she  repeated. 
She  did  not,  though.  A  dancing-party,  presumably 
the  last  of  the  season,  was  to  be  given  at  Helen  Dane's 
that  night;  and  it  was  half-past  eight,  after  she  was 
dressed,  before  Carol  thought  of  the  names  again.  The 
last  thing  before  leaving  her  room,  therefore,  she 
snatched  up  a  piece  of  paper  upon  which  to  take  down 
the  names  from  her  mother's  dictation.  She  looked 
radiantly  beautiful  in  her  costume ;  yet,  when  she 
stepped  into  Ruth's  room  for  something  or  other,  that 
little  maiden  did  not  look  longest,  or  first  or  last,  at  her 
sister's  superb  arms  or  velvety  shoulders  or  perfect 
bosom.  It  was  Carol's  face,  crowned  and  framed  with 
its  wealth  of  pale  hair,  upon  which  she  dwelt  with 
lustrous  eyes.  To-night  the  violet  eyes  were  not  quite 
so  restless  or  proud  as  usual,  but  shone  with  a  limpid 
tenderness  even  more  beautiful. 

"  Oh,  sweetheart !  "  cried  Ruth,  admiringly.  '^  I 
wish  I  could  go." 

"  You  will  be  going,  Babe,  when  I  am  a  withered  old 
maid,"  answered  Carol,  happily. 

As  she  swiftly  gathered  her  rustling  skirts  in  one 
hand,  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  and  gave  them  a  little 
shake,  Ruth  glided  up  to  her  side,  bent  on  witnessing 
her  sister's  triumph  downstairs.  Carol  straightened, 
thrust  out  a  white-slippered  toe,  and  descended  the 
stairs  with  the  grace  and  assurance  of  a  queen.  They 
met  Herbert  at  the  foot,  in  evening  dress. 

"  By  Jove,  sis  !  "  he  obsen^ed,  "  you  must  be  out  for 
blood  to-night.     Kaltenborn  ought  to  see  you  now." 

She  colored  a  httle,  and  only  answered,  "  I  am  glad 
you  are  going.     I  was  afraid  you  would  n't." 

"I  hate  it  enough  to  stay  away,"  he  answered,  with  a 


3 30  The  Darlingtons 

clouding  face.  It  was  his  first  social  appearance  since 
the  trial  of  the  new  engine. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Darlington  were  both  in  the  sitting- 
room.  Mrs.  Darlington  looked  up  at  the  girls'  entrance, 
and  said  quietly,  "You  look  very  nice,  Carol."  She 
had  her  views  about  spoiling  children,  but  she  had 
equally  positive  views  about  starving  them  with  indiffer- 
ence. Carol  fussed  around  the  room,  now  at  the 
mirror  over  the  grate,  now  at  the  chiffonier,  until  Bert 
and  Ruth  went  out  again. 

•'  Mamma,  if  you  will  give  me  those  names  now,  I  will 
leave  them  for  Mr.  Kaltenborn,"  she  said,  in  a  hurried, 
careless  tone.     "  We  drive  right  by." 

''I  wouldn't  bother  with  that  now,"  said  her  mother. 

^'  I  promised  them  for  to-day,  positively,"  said  Carol, 
with  a  slight  flush,  and  she  hastily  scribbled  them  down 
as  her  mother  called  them  off.  Then,  tucking  the  paper 
away  mysteriously  in  her  corsage,  she  leaned  her  bare 
elbow  against  the  mantel-piece.  With  her  other  hand 
she  lightly  lifted  her  skirts,  and  held  her  toe  out  to  the 
blaze.  She  was  not  at  all  cold,  though,  judging  from  the 
glow  on  her  cheeks. 

Mr.  Darlington  looked  up  from  his  paper.  This  flesh 
and  blood  of  his  own  stirred  his  heart  as  did  few  other 
things  in  the  world.  He  was  proud  of  her  beauty ; 
he  respected  her  intelligence  ;  and,  deep  in  his  heart, 
he  was  just  a  little  awed  by  her  fidelity  to  certain 
principles. 

"What's  on  to-night?  '^  he  asked,  as  though  he  had 
not  heard  the  event  at  the  Danes'  talked  of  daily  for  two 
weeks. 

"  Nothing  much,"  answered  Carol,  carelessly,  to  punish 
him  for  his  tardy  interest.     The  mother  glanced  from 


The  Evangelist  331 

daughter  to  husband.  In  all  the  years  she  had  not 
learned  to  understand  these  little  sparring-matches  be- 
tween Carol  and  her  father.  Darlington  returned  to  his 
paper,  and  Carol  walked  to  the  centre  of  the  room, 
directly  in  front  of  him. 

''  I  hardly  know  what  wrap  to  wear,"  she  observed, 
reflectively,  to  her  mother.  ''  1  don't  know  —  I  think 
I  '11  wear  the  swan's-down.  There  is  Cash  now,"  she 
added,  at  the  sound  of  wheels  at  the  porte  cochere. 
"  Good-bye,  everybody." 

Her  father  did  not  answer  ;  she  paused,  and  a  moment 
later  a  pair  of  soft  arms  stole  around  his  neck.  She 
chose  to  let  herself  be  conquered  this  time. 

^'  Papa,  why  don't  you  say  how  you  like  me  ?  "  she 
asked,  feigning  an  injured  tone. 

"  You  '11  do,"  he  answered,  lightly,  without  lifting  his 
eyes. 

"  You  have  n't  looked  at  me,"  she  protested. 

"  Yes,  I  have." 

"  What  have  I  on,  then  ?  " 

'*  Oh,  I  did  n't  know  that  was  to  be  looked  at,"  he 
answered,  dryly. 

Mrs.  Darlington  glanced  up  doubtfully,  but  Carol, 
bending  over,  tucked  her  face  in  her  father's  neck, 
and  laughed  naughtily. 

"  If  you  were  n't  so  old  and  cross,  papa,  don't  you 
think  you  would  fall  in  love  with  me?"  she  exclaimed, 
coquettishly. 

'•You  will  have  all  that  powder  off  your  arms  next,  on 
my  coat,"  he  grumbled. 

"  There 's  none  on,"  she  retorted.  "  Don't  you  think 
you  would  ? " 

"  Don't  bother  me.     Your  mother,  when  I  married 


332  The  Darlingtons 

her,  could  give  you  cards  and  spades  on  beauty  ;  but  it 
was  a  long  time  before  I  decided  to  love  her." 

"That  isn't  mamma's  story/'  answered  Carol,  taunt- 
ingly. For  a  moment  she  blew  girlishly  at  his  whiskers. 
"Well,  I  said  good-bye,"  she  reminded  him. 

"  So  did  I." 

"  You  did  not." 

"  Good-bye,  then." 

"  Some  fathers  kiss  their  children  good-bye,"  she  sug- 
gested, half  smothering  him  with  her  hair  and  arms  and 
perfume.  The  crow's-feet  around  Darlington's  eyes  now 
wrinkled  in  a  smile,  and  he  surrendered.  He  placed 
his  hand  on  her  head,  in  spite  of  her  cries  that  he  would 
spoil  her  hair,  and  pressed  her  mouth  to  his.  "  Trot 
along,  now,"  he  said.  He  made  no  remarks  after  she 
had  gone,  but  he  read  over  the  first  paragraph  of  rail- 
road items  four  times  before  he  got  started  down  the 
column. 

"  Please  tell  the  driver  to  stop  at  Mrs.  Hicks's,"  said 
Carol  to  Winter,  as  he  helped  her  into  the  carriage. 

"What  for? "he  asked. 

"I  have  some  names  for  him  —  for  Mr.  Kaltenborn." 

"Names!" 

"  Yes,  names  of  people  —  poor  people,"  she  said,  with 
some  sharpness.  Cash  acknowledged  his  imphed  stupid- 
ity with  an  "  Oh  !  "  and  gave  the  necessary  directions. 

Mrs.  Hicks  came  to  the  door,  and  led  Carol  back  to 
Kaltenborn's  study,  and  rapped  for  her.  Kaltenborn 
called  "  Come!  "  and  Carol  pushed  the  door  partly  open, 
still  standing  on  the  threshold.  Her  first  impression  was 
that  she  smelled  a  cigar,  —  and  a  very  poor  one.  At 
the  same  instant  her  eyes  fell  upon  a  gaunt,  sandy-haired 
man  with  glasses,  in  the  further  corner  of  the  study.    He 


The  Evangelist  333 

was  just  withdrawing  his  hand  from  the  foliage  of  a  potted 
plant,  and  Carol  received  the  impression  that  he  was 
conceaHng  his  cigar  there. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"'  she  said  to  Kaltenborn,  who  at 
once  arose  and  came  forward.  "  I  have  those  names  for 
you,"  she  added,  in  a  lower  tone.  As  they  moved  away 
from  the  study  door  by  tacit  consent,  she  went  on,  ''  I 
forgot  them  until  this  evening,  —  which  I  hope  you  will 
forgive,  —  and  then  I  scribbled  them  down  from 
mamma's  dictation  in  a  shorthand  style  that  I  don't 
believe  you  can  read,  after  all."  Kaltenborn  motioned 
her  into  the  parlor,  where  she  finished  with,  "  I  '11  re-write 
them,  —  it  will  take  only  a  second,  —  if  you  will  give  me 
a  pencil." 

He  brought  her  paper  and  pencil,  and  she  sank  down 
into  a  chair.  Dropping  the  silk  scarf  from  her  head  to 
her  shoulders,  she  brought  from  under  her  downy  cloak 
an  arm  gloved  to  the  elbow,  and  began  to  write,  —  in  a 
slightly  labored  way,  owing  to  her  tight  glove.  The 
richly  dressed  figure  with  its  elaborate  coiffure ;  the  dim, 
yellow  hght,  which  suffered  by  contrast  with  the  marble 
radiance  of  her  face ;  the  black-garbed,  motionless 
preacher ;  the  humble  room,  —  these  formed  a  striking 
picture.  Its  effect  on  Kaltenborn  was  rather  unexpected. 
He  appeared  not  to  see  Carol  at  all,  not  even  when  she 
shook  her  cloak  still  further  back,  and  revealed  a  gUmpse 
of  her  bare  arm.  He  stared  steadily  at  the  page  she 
was  writing,  and  when  she  handed  him  the  hst,  he 
thanked  her  gravely. 

"  I  will  give  you  one  of  these,  if  you  want  it,"  she  said, 
laying  her  hand  upon  her  roses.  She  looked  at  him 
sharply,  and  received  his  affirmative  before  she  pulled 
out  one  of  the  half-blown  buds. 


334  The  Darlingtons 


^'Was  that  your  evangelist?"  she  asked,  drawing  her 
cloak  close  about  her  again. 

"  Yes." 

"  Does  he  smoke  ?  " 

Kaltenborn's  face  reddened  a  trifle,  but  he  maintained 
his  grave,  dignified  air.  "  Yes,"  he  ansv;ered.  "He  says 
it  helps  his  catarrh." 

The  tones  of  both  were  cold,  and  hers  half-con- 
temptuous as  well.  At  the  door  Kaltenborn  stood  with 
his  hand  on  the  knob  for  what  seemed  a  long  time,  as  if 
he  had  something  further  to  say.  She  fancied  he  might 
be  going  to  apologize  for  his  inexphcable  coldness  ;  but 
he  did  not,  and  after  a  moment  she  said,  "  Please  let  me 
out."  He  opened  the  door  with  a  scarcely  audible 
good-night,  and  let  her  pass. 

He  stood  there  for  a  moment.  She  had  gone  —  his 
friend,  his  dearest  friend  —  to  a  ball,  while  in  the  next 
room,  awaiting  him,  sat  a  fellow-worker  in  the  church  who, 
only  two  nights  before,  had  thundered  against  the  dance. 
Kaltenborn  was  tempted  for  the  moment  to  rush  out  into 
the  night,  and  tell  Carol  why  he  had  been  so  cold. 

He  left  his  rose  in  the  parlor,  and  returned  to  the 
study.  The  evangelist  had  resumed  his  catarrhal  treat- 
ment, with  perfect  fortitude,  if  not,  indeed,  absolute 
gusto  ;  blowing  the  smoke  out  —  after  it  had  performed 
its  healing  function  —  as  skilfully  as  C.  A.  Darlington 
could  have  done  it  himself. 

"  Who  was  that  woman,  brother?  "  he  asked,  compla- 
cently. His  powerful  glasses  gave  his  eyes  a  staring, 
bulging  appearance. 

'*'  Her  name  is  Carol  Darhngton,"  answered  Kalten- 
born, as  he  glanced  over  the  list  in  his  hand. 

The  evangelist  smoked  a  moment  in  silence.    No  one, 


The  Evangelist  335 

after  looking  into  his  eyes  at  that  moment,  would  have 
taken  him  for  a  fool  —  or  a  saint. 

"  Railroad  president's  daughter?"  he  asked,  smoothly. 

"  Yes." 

"  Going  to  give  a  theatre  party  down  the  line,  in  her 
pa's  private  car,  next  Friday?" 

*'  Not  that  I  know  of,"  said  Kaltenborn,  looking  up 
inquiringly. 

The  evangelist  looked  as  though  he  rather  doubted 
Kaltenborn's  ignorance  on  this  subject,  but  freely 
pardoned  the  pretence.     '•  She  is,"  he  said. 

^'  How  do  you  know?  —  if  I  may  ask." 

The  evangelist  stared  meditatively  at  the  ceiling, 
dusky  with  the  lamp-smoke  of  many  a  year.  "  Some 
of  the  brethren  told  me,"  he  answered,  finally.  "  They 
suggested  that  I  might  make  a  good  stroke  for  the  Lord 
by  holding  off  my  sermon  on  theatre-going  until  the 
night  after  this  party,  and  then  giving  it  a  local,  or,  I 
may  say,  a  personal  application.  I  have  about  decided 
to  do  that,"  he  added,  significantly. 

Kaltenborn  instinctively  knew  that  the  man  was 
watching  him,  and  he  did  not  change  a  muscle  of  his 
face.  After  a  moment  the  evangelist  continued : 
"■  She  's  a  personal  friend  of  yours,  ain't  she  ? " 

"Has  any  one  told  you  so,  Mr.  Mc  Andrews  ? " 
asked  Kaltenborn  bluntly,  eying  him  with  unmistakable 
pugnacity. 

Far  from  resenting  this  display  of  spirit,  the  evangelist 
leaned  forward  with  a  shrewd,  droll  look  on  his  gaunt 
features.  "  I  may  say,  Kaltenborn,  without  breach  of 
confidence,  that  they  have.  And  it  was  hinted  that  if 
she  had  been  less  of  a  friend  of  yours,  you  would  be 
a  better  preacher.     Don't  flare  up,  now !     I  don't  take 


336  The  Darllngtons 

any  stock  in  that  rot  myself.  I  was  a  lonely  young 
preacher  myself  once.  God  knows  I  am  lonely  enough 
now,  for  that  matter,  seeing  my  wife  and  children  once 
in  three  months  sometimes,  and  sometnnes  not.  And  I 
still  hanker  after  the  beautiful  and  the  refined.  But  it 
don't  do,  Stephen,"  he  continued,  familiarly,  and 
Kaltenborn  smiled  in  spite  of  himself  at  the  man's 
impudence.  "  You  will  find,  if  you  look  into  the  mat- 
ter, that  it 's  generally  the  odor  of  a  flesh-pot  that  attracts 
you.  And  while  we  could  overlook  a  little  of  that,'^  he 
smiled,  with  suave  knavery,  "it  will  get  you  into  hot 
water  up  to  your  eyes,  sooner  or  later.  But ''  —  and  he 
paused  impressively  —  "I  like  you.  I  like  that  woman. 
She  looks  like  a  whole-souled  creature.  If  you  say  the 
good  word,  I  will  withdraw  that  sermon  on  theatre- 
going." 

"  I  would  n't  have  you  do  it  on  my  account  for  ten 
thousand  dollars,"  said  Kaltenborn,  quickly. 

"If  you  are  indifferent,  all  right/^  said  McAndrews, 
with  a  shrug.  "Perhaps  it  is  best,  as  long  as  I  have 
promised  the  brethren.  But  I  '11  warn  you  that,  in  the 
words  of  a  beloved  and  sanctified,  but  very  blunt  old 
presiding  elder  of  mine,  I  am  going  to  give  the  theatre 
'hell.'  I  am  going  to  give  them  a  sermon  that  has 
brought  more  than  one  society  belle  to  the  altar  —  and 
may  bring  her.     Good-night,  brother." 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

THE  TEST  OF   FRIENDSHIP 

Kaltenborn  walked  back  to  the  parlor  for  his  flower. 
The  delicate  essence  which  Carol  had  left  behind  was 
still  sensible  to  his  nostrils,  and  he  closed  his  eyes  and 
tried  to  fancy  her  still  present.  This  failing,  he  returned 
to  his  study  and  sat  down  at  his  desk,  with  the  rose  in 
one  hand  and  the  pencil  which  Carol  had  used  in  the 
other.     Suddenly  he  pressed  the  latter  to  his  lips. 

The  next  moment  he  had  thrown  it  the  length  of  the 
room,  and  with  a  bitter  smile  on  his  lips  he  deliberately 
began  to  pick  the  flower  to  pieces.  When  it  was  only  a 
litter  of  torn  petals,  when  he  had  brushed  them  into  his 
waste-basket,  when  it  was  too  late,  his  act  struck  him  as 
a  heartless  piece  of  brutality,  as  sacrilege  almost,  and  he 
could  have  cried. 

Never  in  his  hfe  before  had  he  felt  so  lonely.  Cut 
off  from  his  church  by  Carol,  cut  off  from  Carol  by  his 
church,  regarding  his  love  for  her  as  a  weakness  and  a 
violation  of  conscience,  at  the  same  time  despising  the 
people  who  had  condemned  his  friendship  for  her,  he 
was  really  in  a  mood  for  desperate  deeds. 

He  pictured  Carol  at  the  ball,  in  all  her  purity  and 
beauty,  swinging  with  rhythmic  movement  to  the  soft 
music,  supported  by  the  arm  of  another  man,  her  cheeks 
aglow  with  pleasure,   her  eyes  sparkling.     Or  she  was 

22 


338  The  Darlingtons 

sitting  in  some  secluded  nook,  listening  to  murmured 
pleasantries.  Of  what  moment,  he  reflected  bitterly,  were 
those  quiet  talks  he  had  had  with  her  in  the  music-room 
compared  with  all  this  gayety?  Quiet  talks!  He 
sniffed  the  words  contemptuously.  He  could  not  even 
smoke  for  her. 

He  glanced  down  at  his  sombre  ministerial  frock  with 
something  like  loathing.  He  had  not  always  worn  such 
a  frock.  What  was  he  wearing  one  now  for  ?  To  stand 
in  a  pulpit  and  preach  a  gospel  that  he  did  not  more 
than  half  believe ;  to  announce  himself  to  the  world  as 
the  priest  of  a  body  of  people  whose  opinions  and  ideals 
he,  for  the  most  part,  held  in  sovereign  contempt. 

In  these  reflections,  unjust  both  to  himself  and  to 
Carol,  he  did  not  wholly  forget  that  those  eyes  which 
were  now  sparkling  for  another  man  had  once  filled 
with  tears  for  him.  He  knew  that  tears  were  more  than 
sparkles.  He  knew,  in  his  heart,  that  this  balancing  of 
Carol's  amusements  against  the  serious  side  of  her  life 
was  unjust ;  for  she  was  not  given  over  to  social  pleas- 
ures. He  knew,  too,  that  a  large  measure  of  his  present 
contempt  for  the  church  was  chargeable  to  his  contempt 
for  that  one  of  its  ministers  who  had  just  left  the  room. 
And  he  knew  that  that  man  was  not  a  fair  representative 
of  his  class.  But  in  his  present  bitter  mood  he  was  not 
particular  to  be  discriminating,  or  even  just. 

Carol's  silence  toward  him  in  the  matter  of  her 
theatre  party  also  hurt  him.  It  seemed  to  argue  a  lack 
of  confidence  in  him,  and  to  class  him  with  those 
narrow-minded  people  who  censured  such  amusements. 
Added  to  this  was  the  evangehst's  promised  sermon 
against  theatre-going.  Kaltenborn  knew  well  what 
that  sermon  would  be,  coming  from  such   a  man.     It 


The  Test  of  Friendship  339 

meant  a  tirade,  a  low  appeal  to  bigotry,  and  in 
this  particular  case  a  stirring  of  the  passions  of  the  poor 
against  the  rich.  He  dreaded  that  sermon,  and  its 
probable  effect  upon  his  relations  with  Carol ;  but  he 
would  not  have  lifted  his  little  finger,  clandestinely,  to 
prevent  it.  He  did  not,  however,  mean  to  sit  down 
helplessly,  and  let  events  have  their  own  destructive 
way.  That  was  not  his  nature.  In  pursuance  of  a 
resolution  he  had  amved  at,  he  made  his  appearance 
on  Monday  morning  at  the  office  of  the  auditor  of 
the  High  Point,  Rankelman,  Ashboro,  and  Southern 
Railroad. 

"  It 's  business,  I  see  by  your  face,"  said  Carol, 
laughing,  forcing  herself  to  forget  Kaltenborn's  coolness 
of  Saturday  night.  '^  You  are  very  unsophisticated.  If 
you  want  a  favor  from  the  railroad —  and  of  course  you 
do  —  you  ought  to  saunter  in  here  in  an  idle  way,  laugh 
and  joke  for  half  an  hour,  until  you  get  me  into  a  good 
humor,  and  then  suddenly  spring  your  request.  I  could 
then  graciously  do  only  one  thing  —  grant  it." 

*^  I  should  hate  to  trap  you  in  any  such  way,  least  of 
all  on  my  present  errand,"  answered  Kaltenborn,  quite 
soberly. 

"Oh,  so  serious  as  that !  "  she  exclaimed,  affecting  a 
levity  that  she  did  not  feel. 

"  It  is  very  serious  for  me,"  he  returned.  ''  You  are 
going  to  give  a  theatre  party  at  High  Point  next  Friday 
night.  I  knew  nothing  of  it  until  last  Saturday  night, 
after  I  had  seen  you,"  he  added,  looking  pointedly  at 
her.  "Mr.  McAndrews,  the  evangehst,  told  me,  just 
after  you  left,  that  some  of  my  members  had  suggested 
to  him  that  next  Saturday  night  would  be  an  opportune 
time  for  him  to  preach  a  sermon  against  theatre-going. 


340  The  Darlingtons 

He  seems  to  think  well  of  the  suggestion,  and  it  is  his 
present  intention  to  preach  the  sermon." 

Carol  had  dropped  her  cheek  upon  her  hand,  and 
was  looking  at  him  with  round,  interested  eyes,  in  which 
there  was  the  faintest  gleam  of  excitement. 

"  I  know  what  kind  of  a  sermon  he  will  preach,"  con- 
tinued Kaltenborn.  "  It  will  be  a  good  deal  like  the 
one  my  predecessor  preached  on  a  similar  occasion.  It 
may  be  worse.  It  will,  in  any  event,  be  plain  enough  for 
any  one  to  understand  at  whom  it  is  aimed.  Some  of  my 
members  were  also  kind  enough  to  tell  McAndrews  that 
you  were  an  intimate  friend  of  mine,  and  to  hint  that  our 
intimacy  had  something  to  do  with  my  silence  in  the 
pulpit  on  the  subject  of  amusements.  McAndrews, 
hypocrite  though  I  believe  him  to  be,  is  a  man  of  some 
liberality.  He  thunders  against  these  things  simply  be- 
cause it  is  his  business  to  do  so,  and  he  offered,  in  view 
of  the  relations  between  you  and  me,  to  withdraw  the 
sermon.  In  my  heart,  I  believe  the  withdrawal  of  that 
sermon  would  best  serve  the  interests  of  my  church,  just  as 
I  believe  that  the  church  would  have  been  better  off  with- 
out this  evangelist.  In  the  latter  matter,  though,  I  gave 
way  to  the  views  of  my  people,  and  in  common  honesty 
I  had  to  do  the  same  with  regard  to  this  sermon  on 
theatre-going.  I  therefore  told  him  that  I  could  not 
allow  him  to  withdraw  the  sermon  on  my  account. " 

He  paused,  as  if  hoping  Carol  might  make  some 
comment.  But  she  did  not  break  her  silence,  and  he 
went  on,  — 

"Perhaps  you  will  understand  my  motives  without 
further  explanation.  The  point  is  this  :  If  he  preaches 
that  sermon,  at  you,  our  intercourse  must  cease.  As 
pastor  of  the  church  I  shall   be   held  as  supporting 


The  Test  of  Friendship  341 

McAndrews's  views.  I  cannot  make  a  public  disclaimer. 
That  being  the  case,  your  friends  could  hardly  under- 
stand why  you  should  continue  to  countenance  me ;  and 
my  members  could  hardly  understand  how  I,  after 
tacitly  consenting  to  your  public  denunciation,  could 
continue  my  friendship  in  private.  In  short,  a  contin- 
uation of  my  visits  at  your  house  would  jeopardize  the 
respect  in  which  you  are  held  by  your  friends,  and  would 
jeopardize  my  usefulness  in  the  church." 

This  was  sufficiently  important  to  justify  another  stop. 
Carol  continued  her  gaze  with  eyes  of  augmented  bril- 
liancy. Kaltenborn  saw  her  throat  swell,  but  she  did 
not  help  him  out  with  a  single  word. 

"I  came  here,"  he  concluded,  abruptly,  '-'to  ask 
you,  for  the  sake  of  our  friendship,  to  give  up  your 
party." 

Carol  must  have  guessed,  from  the  tension  around  his 
mouth,  what  it  cost  to  say  those  simple  words.  But  for 
a  moment  her  admiration  was  submerged  under  a  tem- 
pest of  rougher  emotions.  She  wanted  to  denounce  the 
narrowness  of  Kaltenborn's  church  members,  and  to 
scathe,  with  her  ready  tongue,  the  hypocrite  who,  for 
pay,  would  publicly  blacken  an  innocent  woman's  repu- 
tation. She  wanted  to  call  Kaltenborn's  attention,  in 
scornful  tones,  to  the  cowardice  of  giving  up  a  harmless 
pleasure  in  order  to  escape  the  abuse  of  a  ranting  evan- 
gelist. Lastly,  she  wanted  to  point  out  the  incongruity 
of  a  friendship  requiring  such  a  peculiar  sacrifice. 

But  something  in  Kaltenborn's  face  seemed  to  tell  her 
that  he  knew  all  this  even  better  than  she  ;  and  that  he 
was  appeahng  to  something  higher  in  her  than  even 
courage  or  justice  or  tolerance.  Something  else  re- 
strained her,  too,  —  the  hardihood  of  the  man  in  so 


342  The  Darlingtons 


coolly  preferring  a  request  involving  a  sacrifice  of  such 
magnitude,  and  his  unmistakable  sincerity  in  so  doing. 

"Are  you  aware  of  the  extraordinary  nature  of  that  re- 
quest, Mr.  Kaltenborn?"  she  asked,  in  a  voice  that 
throbbed  a  little  with  indignation  in  spite  of  her  self- 
restraint. 

"  I  am,"  he  answered,  with  an  irresistible  grandeur. 
"  It  is  so  extraordinary  that  I  should  never  have  dared  to 
make  it  of  any  but  an  extraordinary  woman." 

"  You  are  asking  me  to  disappoint  twenty  friends  in 
order  to  favor  one." 

"  In  order  to  sa2'e  one,"  he  corrected.  Once  more 
he  went  carefully  over  the  ground  to  convince  her  of  the 
inevitable  consequences  of  her  party,  and  to  show  his 
own  helplessness.  "  I  don't  know  that  I  need  to  say 
it,"  he  concluded,  "but  I  am  asking  no  more  than  I 
would  give.  I  have  been  thinking  this  question  over 
every  waking  hour  since  last  Saturday  night.  I  realize 
to  the  full  the  self-denial,  the  forgiveness,  the  nobility, 
which  the  sacrifice  calls  for.  But,  beheve  me,  —  without 
belitthng  that  sacrifice,  —  if  I  were  asked  to  do  it  for 
you,  it  seems  to  me  it  would  be  the  easiest  thing  in  the 
world." 

It  did  look  so,  she  had  no  doubt,  from  the  heights  on 
which  he  stood.  She  did  not  admit  the  inaccessibility 
of  those  heights  to  herself,  but  she  resented  the  neces- 
sity of  ascending  them.  Turn  as  she  might,  though, 
never  in  her  life  before  had  she  been  so  clearly  conscious 
of  being  on  trial.  Yet  she  stubbornly  fought  against  the 
conviction,  and  held  it  off  as  long  as  she  could. 

"  Mr.  Kaltenborn,  I  feel  deeply  in  this  matter,"  she 
said,  finally.  "Your  friendship  is  not  a  thing  that  I 
could  lightly  let  go.     I  would  sacrifice  a  great  deal  to 


The  Test  of  Friendship  343 

keep  it.  But  I  think  you  have  fallen  into  your  old  habit 
of  taking  things  too  seriously.  I  don't  believe  that 
wrong  can  ever  put  down  right.  Why  should  this  evan- 
gelist come  between  us,  no  matter  what  the  circum- 
stances? Do  you  know,  I  don't  beheve  it  is  ever  right 
to  be  weak  —  and  that  is  what  you  are  asking  me  to  be. 
You  are  asking  me  to  give  way  in  a  matter  of  principle 
for  the  sake  of  expediency.  That  is, "  she  explained,  at  his 
dissenting  expression  over  these  blunt  words,  "  you  want 
me  to  give  up  what  I  consider  a  harmless  amusement 
simply  because  somebody  else  considers  it  not  harmless. 
And  as  for  my  friends  falling  off,  in  case  I  should  coun- 
tenance you  after  your  apparent  sanction  of  my  public 
denunciation,  I  don't  believe  you  quite  do  justice  to  the 
respect  my  friends  have  for  me.  And  you  don't  mean 
to  say,  do  you,  that  any  great  number  of  your  members 
would  discountenance  your  associating  with  me,  even 
though  this  man  did  deliver  his  diatribe?" 

"They  would,"  answered  Kaltenborn,  decidedly. 
"  Your  family  is  wealthy.  You  belong  to  an  aristocratic 
church.  My  people  are  poor,  and  belong  to  a  demo- 
cratic church.  Many  of  your  pleasures  are  hopelessly 
beyond  their  reach,  and  others  of  them  cross  their  con- 
sciences. For  me,  their  pastor,  to  associate  with  you,  is 
a  thorn  in  their  flesh  at  the  best.  I  have  seen  it  all 
along,  and  it  has  troubled  me.  More  than  once  I  have 
thought  it  my  duty  to  give  up  your  friendship,  for  the 
sake  of  the  work  I  have  already  given  up  so  much  for. 
But  you  have  helped  me  in  more  ways  than  one,  and  I 
am  doubtful  even  now  as  to  what  my  duty  is.  Yet  those 
doubts  will  be  removed  if  you  persist  in  giving  your 
party ;  for,  take  my  word  for  it,  I  see  a  crisis  at  hand. 
The  only   question   for  you  should  be  —  Is   it  worth 


344  The  Darlingtons 


while  ?  Is  a  friendship  requiring  such  a  peculiar  sacrifice 
founded  on  reason  ?  Is  it  worthy  of  continuation  ?  Is 
it  not,  in  the  end,  destined  to  perish  anyhow  ?  " 

"What  do  you  think  about  it?"  she  asked,  with  a 
curious  intonation. 

"  Last  night  I  thought  it  was  worth  while.  To-day  I 
don't  know." 

"Have  I  had  anything  to  do  with  the  change?"  she 
asked. 

"  I  don't  know  that,  either,"  he  returned,  shortly. 

She  sat  thinking  for  a  moment,  her  lips  tightly  pressed 
together,  and  her  mouth  drooping  a  little  stubbornly  at 
the  corners.  But  after  a  little  these  sharp  corners  relaxed 
somewhat. 

"  You  said  a  minute  ago,"  she  observed,  "  that  you 
were  asking  no  more  than  you  would  give.  Did  you 
suspect  it  might  be  more  than  /  should  be  willing  to 
give?" 

"  The  thought  occurred  to  me,"  he  answered,  frankly. 

"  Then  you  give  me  credit  for  less  magnanimity  than 
you  claim  for  yourself." 

"  No.  Our  friendship  may  not  mean  as  much  to  you 
as  it  does  to  me." 

She  seemed  to  attach  no  special  significance  to  his 
words,  for  her  serious  face  underwent  no  change.  But 
she  had  a  faculty,  as  he  had  learned,  of  feigning  calmness 
in  even  crucial  moments. 

"  Would  that  make  any  difference,  if  I  were  really 
magnanimous  ?  "  she  asked,  argumentatively.  "  Might  n't 
I  give  up  simply  for  your  sake,  —  or  because  it  was 
right  ?  "  She  turned  upon  him  a  pair  of  eyes  so  tran- 
quil, so  impersonal,  that  he  experienced  a  disagreeable 
sensation. 


The  Test  of  Friendship         345 

"  I  did  n't  ask  it  on  those  grounds,"  he  returned, 
shortly,  "  and  I  could  not  accept  it  on  them." 

"  Do  you  think,  Mr.  Kaltenborn,  that  you  have  a  right 
to  ask  it  on  any  other?"  Her  eyes  were  a  little  dilated, 
and  each  pupil  seemed  to  contain  a  point  of  fire ;  but  it 
was  impossible  for  him  to  tell  whether  her  tone  was 
favorable  or  unfavorable. 

■ ''  It  is  for  you  to  pass  on  that,"  he  returned,  steadily, 
and  the  color  suddenly  mounted  to  her  cheeks. 

''  I  must  think  it  over  —  your  proposition,"  she  said, 
hastily.  '^  But  if  papa  knew  that  I  was  going  to  give  up 
my  party  because  that  evangeHst  had  threatened  to  slander 
me,  what  do  you  suppose  he  would  say  ? " 

"You  are  not  giving  it  up  for  any  such  reason," 
answered  Kaltenborn,  warmly. 

"  If  papa  knew  I  was  giving  it  up  for  yoic,  what  do  you 
suppose  he  would  say?"  she  asked. 

''  He  would  probably^  say  that  you  were  a  fool," 
answered  Kaltenborn,  bluntly. 

She  winced,  and  asked,  half  ironically,  '^  What  do 
you  suppose  your  people,  the  Methodists,  would  say?" 

"They  would  probably  think  that  the  evangelist 
had  scared  you,"  he  answered,  with  uncompromising 
frankness. 

"And  what  would  you  think?"  she  asked,  and  in 
spite  of  her  admirable  self-possession  there  was  a  slight 
huskiness  in  her  voice. 

"I  should  try  not  to  think  too  much,"  he  answered. 

She  did  not  hft  her  eyes. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

A   PROVIDENTIAL   INTERVENTION 

Carol  gave  herself  until  Wednesday  night  to  come  to 
a  decision.  Sometimes  Kaltenborn's  request  seemed 
hopelessly  quixotic  ;  at  other  times  it  seemed  logical  and 
natural.  But  for  the  most  part  it  seemed  quixotic,  and 
she  told  herself,  over  and  over  again,  that  it  was  so.  Yet 
somewhere  within  her  consciousness  she  knew  that  these 
repetitions  were  a  vain  lie,  and  that  in  the  end  she  would 
give  in  to  Kaltenborn. 

This  conviction  sometimes  goaded  her  to  fierceness. 
She  would  then  whip  her  pride  up  until  compliance  with 
Kaltenborn's  request  seemed  downright  immodesty  —  an 
odious  bid  for  his  friendship,  and  —  why  deny  it  to  her- 
self? —  his  love.  Not  that  she  felt  fully  ready  to  requite 
such  a  feeling,  or  was  sure  that  she  could  ever  requite  it. 
But  somehow,  of  late,  she  had  allowed  herself  to  think 
unflinchingly  of  his  love.  She  had  come  to  regard  it  as 
her  right.  She  had  come  to  regard  him  as  a  kind  of 
protege  of  hers,  who,  in  common  gratitude,  should  bestow 
upon  her  all  his  devotion.  At  least,  she  could  not  imagine 
him  as  loving  any  one  else.  Hence,  in  her  moments  of 
mortified  pride,  she  told  herself  hotly  that  she  would  not 
bid  for  what  was  already  rightfully  hers. 

She  finally  went  to  her  father,  less  for  advice  than  for 
moral  support.     She  had  an  idea  that  he  would  deride 


A  Providential  Intervention      347 

her  weakness  clean  out  of  existence.  His  derision  was 
keen  enough,  in  all  reason ;  but  so  far  from  casting  out 
her  fancied  weakness,  it  seemed  only  to  root  it  more 
firmly,  and  she  found  herself  siding  with  Kaltenborn 
against  her  father. 

"  I  want  to  do  what  is  right ^^  she  said,  with  her  clear, 
straightforward  gaze.  "  It  will  be  a  little  queer  to  with- 
draw the  invitations  now,  and  a  few  may  suspect  the  real 
reason.  But  I  don't  care  for  that,  as  long  as  he  doesn't 
misconstrue  my  action." 

"Misconstrue  it  how?  "  asked  her  father. 

"  Well,  if  I  do  this,  the  inference  is  that  I  attach 
some  value  to  his  friendship,"  she  answered,  with  a  trifle 
of  confusion. 

"  So  I  take  it,"  said  her  father,  dryly.  "  And  you  're 
afraid  he  will  misconstrue  it,  and  take  it  that  you  attach 
no  value  to  his  friendship?" 

"He  may  think  that  I  attach  more  value  than  I  do," 
she  answered  with  dignity,  ignoring  his  irony. 

The  president  drew  out  his  knife,  and  began  to  sharpen 
a  pencil,  the  keen  blade  cutting  through  the  soft  cedar 
without  perceptible  effort.  "As  a  matter  of  fact,"  he 
continued,  blowing  the  parings  away,  "  how  much  do  you 
value  his  friendship  ?  " 

"  That 's  a  leading  question,"  she  answered,  laughing, 
and  coloring  a  little.  "  I  like  him  very  much.  He  is 
original  and  manly  and  intelligent,  and  I  think  his  society 
does  me  more  good  than  that  of  anybody  else  I  know. 
That 's  about  the  extent  of  it."  She  looked  at  him  very 
innocently. 

"  How  much  do  you  think  he  values  j^?/r  friendship  ?  " 
asked  her  father,  still  busy  with  his  pencil, 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  conservatively.     "I 


348  The  Darlingtons 

fancy,  though,  that  he  thinks  fully  as  much  of  mine  as 
I  think  of  his.  If  he  did  n't;  he  would  hardly  ask  me  to 
do  this." 

"  I  have  an  idea,  Carol,"  said  Mr.  Darlington,  "  that 
he  thinks  more  of  it.  I  have  an  idea  that  he  thinks  a 
good  deal  more  of  it."  He  paused.  A  peculiar  lumi- 
nosity flashed  up  in  Carol's  eyes,  and  then  was  instantly 
quenched.  ^'  Still,  if  you  want  to  give  up  your  party  for 
the  sake  of  seeing  him  three  or  four  times  a  month  until 
he  moves  away  next  fall,  give  it  up.  It's  nobody's 
business  but  your  own." 

"  It  is  n't  certain  that  he  '11  move,"  she  said. 

"From  what  he  told  me  the  other  day,  it  is  pretty 
certain.  He  's  too  broad-minded  for  these  people.  He  's 
the  broadest-minded  preacher  I  ever  knew,  I  think. 
But  he  has  some  queer  ideas.  He  has  ideas  that  don't 
square  with  yours  and  mine,  and  never  will."  He  paused 
again,  but  Carol  said  nothing.  "Not  one  man  in  a 
thousand  would  ask  a  woman  to  do  what  he  has  asked 
you  to  do,  and  I  don't  think  one  woman  in  a  thousand 
would  do  it,  —  unless  she  loved  him."  Another  pause. 
Under  his  keen  scrutiny,  Carol  flushed  slightly,  but  still 
said  nothing.  "  It  never  crossed  his  mind  that  it  would 
cost  you  anything  to  give  up  that  party." 

"  It  would  n't,  papa,"  was  her  astonishing  answer. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  asked  her  father,  almost 
sternly. 

"  I  mean  that  the  way  matters  stand,  I  would  sooner 
give  the  party  up  than  not,  —  if  it 's  right." 

"All  right,"  he  assented,  with  some  acidity.  "If  you 
feel  that  way,  the  thing  for  you  to  do  is  to  give  it  up. 
But  I  '11  tell  you  this,  —  it  would  n't  make  any  difference 
to  him  whether  it  cost  you   something  or  not.     Such 


A  Providential  Intervention      349 

considerations  don't  stop  a  man  like  Kaltenborn.  When 
such  men  think  they  are  right,  they  will  have  their  way, 
if  it  takes  a  leg,  —  or  breaks  a  heart.  I  can  be  bull- 
headed  enough  myself,  up  to  where  it  begins  to  draw 
blood  out  of  somebody,  and  then  I  cave.  But  you  take 
one  of  these  fanatics,  and  he's  got  no  heart.  The  crying 
of  a  woman  is  no  more  to  him  than  the  squalling  of  a 
cat,  —  and  many  a  woman  has  found  it  out  to  her 
sorrow." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Mr.  Kaltenborn  is  a  fa- 
natic," asked  Carol,  ominously. 

"  I  mean  to  say  that  he  is  just  that  fanatical,"  answered 
her  father,  valorously,  for  his  blood  was  up. 

A  slightly  sarcastic  smile  overspread  Carol's  proud 
features.  But  quickly,  as  if  recognizing  the  unlovableness 
of  this,  her  face  softened,  and  she  asked,  conciliatingly, 
"  Is  n't  that  a  good  way  to  be,  sometimes  ?  " 

"  It 's  a  good  enough  way  for  the  infallible  God  to  be," 
her  father  answered,  forcibly.  "  But  when  a  narrow, 
bigoted,  short-sighted,  faulty  man  tries  it  on  —  and  they 
are  the  only  men  that  do  try  it  —  there  is  misery  ahead 
for  somebody,  —  and  it 's  generally  a  woman." 

''  Papa,  do  you  mean  to  apply  those  odious  epithets  to 
Mr.  Kaltenborn?"  she  asked  again,  the  ominous  calm 
now  settling  unmistakably. 

"  No  !  I  mean  that  red-headed  evangelist,"  he  re- 
turned, fiercely.  "  If  I  had  my  way,  I  'd  split  his  tongue 
and  put  him  to  work  in  a  treadmill."  He  chewed  his 
cigar  savagely  for  a  moment ;  but,  Carol  saying  nothing, 
he  soon  continued,  more  temperately  :  "  But  Kalten- 
born's  judgment  is  poor.  He  left  his  father's  brewery, 
where  he  was  probably  getting  four  or  five  thousand 
dollars  a  year,  to  go  into  the  law.     Then,  not  satisfied  with 


350  The  Darlingtons 

that,  he  went  into  the  ministry,  and  cut  himself  off  from 
the  old  man's  good  will  and  his  millions.  To-day  he  is 
working  for  eight  or  nine  hundred  dollars  a  year.  I 
have  no  use  for  breweries,  God  knows,  but  why  did  n't 
he  abide  his  time  ?  His  leaving  the  brewery  did  not  re- 
duce the  output  of  beer  a  single  barrel,  whereas  if  he 
had  stayed  until  the  business  had  come  into  his  hands, 
he  could  have  sold  the  brewery  and  put  the  proceeds 
into  charity  —  if  that 's  his  idea.  Or  he  could  have  torn 
it  down,  if  he  did  n't  want  any  more  beer  to  be  made 
there,  and  still  have  had  plenty  of  money.  Think  of 
the  poor-houses,  asylums,  and  hospitals  he  could  have 
built !  But  no,  he  had  to  go  and  preach,  and  here  he  is 
in  Ashboro,  locked  up  in  a  nutshell." 

For  a  little  there  was  silence.  Carol  was  evidently 
impressed,  but  she  only  said,  with  a  rueful  smile,  "  Well, 
this  does  n't  help  me  any." 

"  I  had  hopes  that  it  would,"  he  answered,  almost 
appealingly.  Before  she  had  time  to  take  him  up,  he 
added,  "  If  I  make  a  decision  for  you,  will  you  abide 
by  it  ?  " 

"  What  is  it,  first?"  she  asked,  laughing  girlishly. 

"No!  I  make  no  decisions  on  approval."  He 
turned  to  his  desk,  and  began  to  read  some  letters. 
She  watched  him  a  moment  with  troubled  eyes,  and  after 
a  little  he  said,  "You  talk  it  over  with  your  mother." 

She  did  so  that  evening.  Somewhat  to  Carol's  sur- 
prise, her  mother  took  the  communication  very  calmly, 
indeed.  This  pleased  Carol,  secretly,  but  it  was  about 
the  only  feature  of  the  interview  that  did  please  her. 
Mrs.  Darlington  seemed  to  take  about  the  same  view  of 
the  matter  that  her  husband  had  taken,  namely,  that  such 
a  request  implied  something  more  than  mere  friendship. 


A  Providential  Intervention       351 

In   her   heart,   Carol   recognized   the   justness   of  this 
assumption,  yet  it  vexed  her  that  they  should  make  it. 

After  telling  her  daughter  that  it  was  a  matter  which 
she  would  have  to  decide  for  herself,  Mrs.  Darlington 
added,  "  I  hope  you  may  never  forfeit  Mr.  Kaltenborn's 
admiration.  But  you  say  you  regard  him  only  as  a 
friend,  and,  Carol,  I  want  you  to  be  very  careful  not  to 
do  anything  that  could  possibly  lead  him  to  think  other- 


wise." 


"  But  how  can  I  claim  to  be  even  his  friend  if  I  cut 
him  loose  in  this  fashion?"  argued  Carol,  patiently. 
"  And  do  you  suppose,  mamma,  that  he  could  make 
such  a  mistake  as  that?  " 

"  Men  have  made  greater  mistakes,"  answered  her 
mother. 

When  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Darlington  were  left  alone  at  bed- 
time, he  asked  her  if  Carol  had  spoken  to  her  about  the 
theatre  party,  and  asked  her  what  she  had  told  the  girl. 

"  I  told  her  that  I  did  n't  think  she  was  called  upon 
to  give  it  up,"  answered  Mrs.  Darlington. 

''What  did  she  say?"'  asked  Darlington,  amiably, 
rather  pleased  that  his  views  should  have  been  confirmed 
by  his  wife. 

"  She  did  n't  say  what  she  would  do,  and  I  did  n't  ask 
her.  I  could  see  she  was  troubled  about  it.  I  wish  she 
wasn't  —  quite  so  much.  I  think  Mr.  Kaltenborn  ap- 
peals very  strongly  to  her.  I  fancied  she  would  get 
tired  of  him  in  a  month,  but  he  comes  oftener  than  ever. 
For  some  reasons  I  am  not  sorry.  Yet  —  "  She  hesi- 
tated a  moment,  and  ended  with,  ''  He  has  a  good  deal 
of  influence  over  her,  and  for  the  best.  I  believe.  She 
never  mentions  it  —  she  would  n't,  anyhow ;  but  now  and 
then  she  drops  something." 


352  The  Darlingtons 

"I  never  heard  her  drop  anything/'  said  Darlington, 
dissentingly. 

Mrs.  Darlington  entered  into  no  details,  but  simply 
said,  ''  She  has  changed  her  views  regarding  a  great 
many  things.     For  the  better,  too,  I  must  say,  in  most 


cases." 


"Well,  I  admire  the  man  myself,  in  some  ways," 
answered  Darlington,  indirectly  defending  Carol. 

"We  all  do,  I  think,"  said  his  wife,  quietly. 

"I  don't  think  her  saying  those  things  cuts  any 
figure,"  he  continued.  "They  are  pretty  level-headed, 
both  of  them.  They  understand  each  other.  He 
knows  her  place,  and  she  knows  it."  He  waited  for  his 
wife  to  assent  to  this,  but  as  she  did  not  he  went  on : 
"  Carol  is  a  little  bit  of  a  coquette  in  an  innocent  way. 
Most  women  are,  for  that  matter.  But  she  's  got  too 
much  sense  and  too  much  honor  to  tamper  with  a  man 
like  Kaltenborn.  I  sounded  her  pretty  well  myself, 
to-day,"  he  added,  importantly. 

"  She  's  too  deep  for  me  to  sound,"  said  his  wife,  half- 
plaintively.  "  She 's  so  different  from  Bert.  Sometimes 
I  think  it  was  a  mistake  to  let  her  go  into  the  office, 
Charles.  She  is  naturally  independent  and  headstrong, 
and  I  think  being  in  the  office  has  made  her  more  so." 

"Bosh!"  exclaimed  Darlington,  amiably.  "It  has 
been  her  salvation.  You  tie  a  girl  Uke  her  down  to 
cleaning  up  her  room  and  working  doilies  and  looking 
pleasant,  and  she  '11  go  to  the  dogs." 

"  I  don't  think  either  of  our  girls  would  do  that, 
Charles,"  remonstrated  his  wife. 

"She  is  just  as  likely  to  do  it  as  somebody  else's 
girl,"  returned  Darlington,  coolly  —  too  coolly  to 
mean   it. 


A  Providential  Intervention      353 

"  She 's  got  to  be  tied  down  that  way  some  day  — 
when  she  's  married,"  said  his  wife. 

"  She  '11  have  a  boss  then,"  he  retorted. 

"  I  don't  think  she  will  ever  marry  a  boss,"  observed 
Mrs.  Darlington,  gravely. 

"  She  '11  never  marry  any  one  else,"  he  returned,  tak- 
ing up  his  paper.  That  Kaltenborn  had  the  timber  in 
him  for  the  very  best  kind  of  a  boss  may  have  just 
struck  him,  and  may  have  had  something  to  do  with  his 
silence. 

"  I  don't  fancy  there  is  anything  between  them  yet," 
observed  Mrs.  Darlington,  striking  home  in  Darhngton's 
thoughts  with  a  precision  that  made  him  wince.  "  But 
when  a  girl  begins  to  give  up  her  parties  for  a  man,  one 
can't  tell  where  it  will  end." 

"  She  has  n't  given  up  any  parties  yet,"  answered 
Darlington,  with  some  asperity. 

I  believe  she  will,"  said  his  wife,  firmly. 
Well,  if  she  does,  I  guess  we  can't  stop  her.     And  if 
we  could,  I  guess  it  would  n't  do  any  good.     So  there 
you  are." 

When  Carol  entered  her  father's  office  the  following 
morning,  with  hat  and  jacket  on,  and  a  bundle  of  square 
envelopes  in  her  hand,  and  said,  in  a  voice  not  quite 
natural,  and  with  a  half-frightened  smile,  "  Here  are  the 
cancellations  of  the  theatre-party  invitations/'  it  cannot 
be  said  that  Darhngton  was  surprised.  Nevertheless, 
the  act  gave  him  a  disagreeable  turn.  He  gave  her  a 
quick  glance,  and  grunted, ''  All  right." 

^*  You  are  angry,"  she  said,  with  an  appeahng  look. 

**What  the  deuce  should  I  be  angry  about?"  he 
asked,  knocking  his  papers  about  in  quite  a  purposeless 
way.     "  It  is  n't  my  funeral." 

23 


(C 


354  '^h^  Darlingtons 

"I  hope  it  isn't  mine,  either."  Her  tones  were  so 
humble  that  his  conscience  smote  him,  and  looking  up 
he  asked  more  sofdy,  — 

"  Why  should  I  be  angry?  " 

"  Because  I  did  n't  take  your  advice,"  she  said, 
sweetly. 

"  I  did  n't  give  you  any  advice,"  he  returned. 

"  If  you  don't  want  me  to  send  them,  papa,  I  '11  tear 
them  up  right  now,"  she  said,  coming  nearer. 

**  It 's  a  matter  of  no  moment  to  me,"  he  answered 
smoothly,  but  stubbornly. 

"  I  won't  send  them  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Do  just  as  you  please." 

"  Papa,  I  've  had  trouble  enough  already  about  this," 
she  began,  turbulently. 

"  Am  I  troubling  you  ?  "  he  asked,  affecting  inno- 
cence. "  Go  on  and  mail  your  letters.  You  know 
your  own  business  better  than  I  do.  I  have  n't  the 
slightest  objection  to  your  mailing  them." 

"  You  act  as  though  you  had,"  she  complained. 

« I  have  n't." 

As  Carol  walked  down  the  main  street  toward  the 
post-office,  she  saw  Ethel  Dane  and  another  young 
woman  coming  toward  her.  The  chances  were  ten  to 
one  that  they  would  make  some  mention  of  the  party, 
which  would  prove  exceedingly  embarrassing  to  Carol  at 
that  juncture.  With  a  guilty  flush  she  turned  into  the 
first  door  that  offered  escape,  which  happened  to  be  that 
of  a  drug-store.  The  alert  clerk  was  altogether  too 
prompt  for  her  in  her  flurried  condition.  For  a 
moment  she  could  not  fix  her  mind  upon  a  single  article 
in  the  varied  display  before  her  that  she  could  reason- 
ably ask  for,  and  then  she  perversely  called  for  some 


A  Providential  Intervention      355 

quinine.  The  clerk  wanted  to  know  first  how  much, 
then  whether  she  wanted  it  in  bulk  or  in  capsules,  and 
then  in  what  size  capsules  —  simple  questions  enough, 
but  it  taxed  her  ingenuity  to  answer  them.  While  these 
details  were  being  settled,  Carol  saw  the  two  girls  pass 
the  window.  After  paying  for  the  quinine,  at  the  same 
time  assuring  the  garrulous  clerk  that  no  one  was 
especially  sick,  she  salHed  out  into  the  street  again, 
thoroughly  vexed  with  herself,  and  not  a  little  ashamed. 

When  she  was  within  two  doors  of  the  post-office,  a 
passing  messenger-boy  on  a  bicycle  suddenly  veered 
in  to  the  curbstone,  dismounted,  and  handed  her  a 
telegram.  She  received  too  many  telegrams  in  the 
course  of  business  to  have  any  of  the  awe  for  them  that 
most  women  have,  and  she  opened  this  one  very  coolly. 
It  was  from  the  manager  of  the  opera-house  at  High 
Point,  and  announced  that  the  building  had  burned  to 
the  ground  the  night  before,  and  that  there  would,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  be  no  entertainment  on  Friday  night. 

Just  how  glad  Carol  was  to  receive  that  telegram,  she 
did  not  realize  for  a  moment  or  two.  It  came  like  a 
reprieve  to  a  condemned  criminal  — too  good  news  to 
be  instantly  comprehended.  Then  she  swung  around, 
and  walked  briskly  up  the  street.  She  had  a  wild 
desire  to  throw  the  package  of  tinted  envelopes  in  her 
hand  high  into  the  air,  and  give  a  little  yell.  But  fore- 
going these  undignified  demonstrations,  she  strode  on, 
with  a  vigorous  step  and  head  well  up.  A  little  further 
on  she  ran  squarely  into  Ethel  Dane  and  her  companion. 

"  The  opera-house  at  High  Point  has  burned  to  the 
ground  !  "  were  Carol's  first  words. 

"  You  are  joking  !  "  cried  Miss  Dane,  aghast.  Carol 
handed  her  the  telegram. 


356  The  Darlingtons 

*'  It 's  a  heartless  shame !  "  exclaimed  the  young  lady, 
with  a  stamp.  "  I  just  this  minute  tried  on  my  new 
gown  for  the  last  time." 

"Well,  I  didn't  burn  it,"  said  Carol,  without  the 
least  regret. 

"  I  don't  know ;  I  believe  you  did,"  said  Miss  Dane, 
with  very  pretty  petulance.  "  You  have  a  kind  of 
*  successful  incendiary '  grin  on  your  face.  I  beheve 
you  burnt  it  just  to  get  out  of  giving  a  party.  You 
don't  look  a  bit  sorry  —  does  she,  Edith  ?  Oh,  dear ! 
Well,  good-bye.  Your  correspondence  must  be  grow- 
ing," she  added,  as  her  sweeping  gaze  lighted  upon 
Carol's  envelopes.     "  Why  don't  you  mail  them  ?  " 

"  That 's  a  pretty  shirt-waist,  Ethel,"  said  Carol,  with- 
out a  blush. 

"Like  it?"  exclaimed  the  other,  carelessly  plucking 
out  the  bosom.  "That  doesn't  make  me  feel  a  bit 
better.  Good-bye.  I  ^11  never  forgive  you^  remember 
that ! " 

The  first  thing  Carol  did  upon  returning  to  her  office 
was  to  lock  up  the  notes  of  cancellation  in  a  private 
drawer,  to  await  a  convenient  and  safe  destruction. 
The  second  thing  was  to  tell  her  father  the  news. 

"Well,"  he  remarked,  non-committally. 

"  I  'm  glad,"  she  said. 

"  Kaltenborn  won't  be,"  said  her  father,  mahciously. 

"Why?"  she  asked,  but  the  same  thought  had 
already  crossed  her  own  mind. 

"  It  robs  him  of  a  little  victory.  He  won't  know  now 
whether  you  wrestled  successfully  with  your  bad  angel 
or  not." 

"  It  is  n't  necessary  that  he  should  know." 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  is,"  he  returned,  with  his  light  irony. 


A  Providential  Intervention      357 

"  You  must  tell  him  all  about  it,  and  mention  the  fact 
that  you  had  the  very  notes  to  cancel  the  engagement 
in  your  hands  when  the  telegram  came.  Then  he  will 
tell  the  red-headed  evangelist,  and  maybe  he  won't  skin 
you,  after  all." 

"  Papa,  you  can  be  pretty  mean  when  you  want  to,'' 
said  Carol,  turning  away. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

UNTYING  A  KNOT 

Nevertheless,  Darlington's  words  had  their  intended 
effect.  Carol  wrote  Kaltenborn  a  note  telling  him  that 
the  burning  of  the  opera-house  had  settled  her  vexed 
question.  It  was  not  quite  honest,  she  felt ;  but  in  her 
strait  she  blinked  at  this  fact,  and  soothed  her  con- 
science by  promising  herself  to  tell  Kaltenborn  the  whole 
truth,  should  he  touch  upon  the  matter.  She  despatched 
the  note  to  Mrs.  Hicks's  house  by  the  office-boy. 

Kaltenborn  called  that  evening,  to  Carol's  surprise. 
She  had  supposed  his  presence  would  be  required  at  the 
"protracted  meetings,"  as  they  were  officially  called. 
He  made  no  explanation,  however,  of  his  absence  from 
the  church,  and  she,  for  some  reason,  did  not  want  to 
ask  him  for  any.  In  her  penitence  over  that  unfair  note, 
which  had  given  her  more  than  one  twinge  of  conscience 
during  the  day,  Carol  was  unusually  gracious.  Kalten- 
born was  in  a  reciprocal  mood.  There  was  a  vein  of 
tenderness  in  his  voice ;  he  moved  about  with  a  light- 
ness unusual  in  him ;  he  talked  about  the  results  of  the 
evangelistic  meetings  —  after  Carol  had  introduced  the 
subject  —  in  a  favorable  tone,  quite  in  contrast  with  his 
usual  manner ;  he  spoke  kindly  of  the  evangelist ;  and 
when  Carol  opened  the  whole  question  of  the  usefulness 
of  evangelists,  taking   Kaltenborn's   old    stand    against 


Untying  a  Knot  359 

them,  he  canvassed  the  other  side  of  the  question  with 
judicial  fairness.  Summing  all  this  up,  Carol  suspected 
that  Kaltenborn  was  in  trouble  of  some  kind,  and  that  it 
had  subdued  him.     At  last  he  asked,  rather  abruptly  : 

"  Had  you  come  to  any  conclusion  about  giving  up 
your  party  when  you  received  the  telegram  announcing 
the  burning  of  the  opera-house  ?  " 

"  What  did  you  think?  "  she  asked,  evasively. 

"Your  note  was  obviously  intended  to  convey  the 
impression  that  you  had  not,"  he  answered. 

Carol  reddened.  The  very  simplicity  and  unconscious- 
ness of  his  imputation  gave  it  a  sting  which  he  perhaps 
would  not  knowingly  have  inflicted. 

"  I  had,^^  she  answered.  He  waited  for  her  to  go  on, 
and  she  asked,  "  Did  you  try  to  guess  what  my  conclusion 
was?" 

"  I  did  not.     I  had  no  means  of  knowing." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,  Mr.  Kaltenborn,  that  you  were 
in  real  doubt  as  to  what  I  should  do } "  she  asked,  with 
some  feehng. 

"  How  could  I  be  otherwise,"  he  answered,  "  when 
you  were  in  doubt  yourself  the  last  time  I  saw  you?  " 

*'  Sometimes  a  man  knows  a  woman  better  than  she 
knows  herself,''  she  answered,  with  a  pecuHar  intonation. 
"  Excuse  me  a  moment,"  she  added,  rising  and  leaving 
the  room.  When  she  came  back,  she  placed  in  his 
hands  a  package  of  square  envelopes,  addressed  and 
stamped,  and  held  together  by  a  rubber  band.  "Read 
any  one  of  those,"  she  said;  and  when  he  had  done  it, 
she  added,  "  I  had  those  in  my  hands,  and  was  at  the 
post-office  door,  when  that  telegram  was  received." 

She  was  standing  by  his  side,  her  figure  drawn  up  a 
little  proudly.     Kaltenborn  looked  up  into  her  serious 


360  The  Darlingtons 

face  with  a  searching  glance,  and  as  he  looked,  his  own 
face  became  illuminated. 

"  Why  did  you  write  these  notes  ?  "  he  asked,  gently. 

"  Why?  "  she  repeated,  blankly.  "  Why  —  why,  be- 
cause you  wanted  me  to,"  and  the  tell-tale  blood  flooded 
her  cheeks.  She  attempted  to  turn  away,  but  Kalten- 
born  suddenly  took  her  hands,  and  drew  himself  up 
beside  her,  the  envelopes  falling  in  a  shower  upon  the 
floor. 

"  Carol,  I  love  you,"  he  began,  in  a  firm,  purposeful 
tone.  "  I  have  loved  you  for  a  long  time,  and  now  I 
must  tell  you.  I  can't  occupy  this  anomalous  position 
any  longer.  It  is  right  that  you  should  know  I  love  you, 
even  though  that  knowledge  ends  all." 

Carol  stood  with  both  her  hands  in  his,  her  head 
slightly  bowed,  her  eyes  directed  downward  toward  her 
hands.  Her  expression  was  tranquil,  and  thoughtful,  and 
respectful.  The  least  compression  showed  about  her 
mouth. 

They  stood  thus  for  some  time,  motionless  and  speech- 
less. Then  Carol's  lips  relaxed  a  little,  as  though  she 
was  going  to  speak,  and  her  face  Hfted  slightly ;  but 
nothing  came  of  it.  Kaltenborn  gazed  at  her  with  a  rare 
tenderness,  and  pressed  her  hands  together  between 
his. 

"  It  is  this  secret  which  has  been  spoiling  me,"  he 
went  on,  softly,  lest  the  spell  which  bound  her  should  be 
broken.  "  I  have  been  like  a  man  stricken  with  disease 
who  is  afraid  to  go  to  a  physician  and  learn  the  worst ; 
who,  from  fear  of  the  surgeon's  knife,  lets  the  insidious 
growth  gnaw  out  his  vitals.  But  I  am  not  afraid  of  the 
knife  any  longer,  — if  it  be  necessary  to  use  it." 

Still  the  hands  in  his  lay  passive,  and  her  lashes  did 


Untying  a  Knot  361 

not  lift.    Possibly  the  cheek  nearest  to  him  grew  a  shade 
paler.     Her  whole  body  seemed  to  be  Hstening. 

"  I  have  no  right,  perhaps,  to  hold  your  hands  thus, 
—  even  to  speak  to  you  thus,"  he  continued.  ''  Perhaps, 
in  face  of  this  confession,  you  may  think  I  had  no  right 
to  ask  you  to  give  up  your  party,  and  my  asking  you  to 
do  so  may  seem  selfish.  It  was.  But  there  was  so  httle 
that  I  could  ask  of  you  in  my  position,  where  another 
man  might  have  asked  so  much,  that  I  could  not  give 
that  little  up.  Do  you  forgive  it?  Do  you  forgive  me 
for  asking  it  for  friendship's  sake,  when  I  wanted  it  for 
love's  sake?  " 

In  answer,  she  inclined  her  head  a  little  further,  and 
for  a  moment  Kaltenborn  gazed  silently  and  raptly  upon 
her  square,  white  brow. 

"  There  is  so  little  that  I  can  ask,  even  now,"  he 
began,  but  broke  off  as  in  desperation  at  his  own 
helplessness. 

*'  I  think  I  hear  some  one  coming,"  she  murmured 
softly.     "■  You  have  hold  of  my  hands." 

He  released  them,  and  moved  toward  the  hall  ^^I 
cannot  possibly  talk  to  any  one  else  just  now,"  he  ex- 
plained, hurriedly.  But  the  footfalls  turned  off  into 
another  room,  and  Kaltenborn  halted  and  glanced  back 
at  the  statuesque  figure.  She  did  not  speak,  and  scarcely 
looked  at  him,  yet  something  in  her  eyes  bade  him  stay. 
He  turned  back ;  but  still  she  said  nothing. 

"  I  am  laboring  under  no  delusions,"  continued  Kal- 
tenborn, with  some  reserve,  at  her  prolonged  silence. 
'^I  can  understand  the  embarrassing  position  I  have 
placed  you  in.  I  am  just  as  much  alive  as  you  are  to 
the  peculiar  conditions  under  which  our  friendship  has 
existed,  and  have  never  for  one  moment  forgotten  the 


362  The  Darlingtons 

limitations  set  by  those  conditions,  —  do  not  forget  them 
now.  I  know  that  j^ou  and  I  occupy  widely  separated 
spheres  in  life.  I  may  say  that  our  intimacy  has  existed 
on  sufferance,  and  I  realize  that  that  sufferance,  so  far 
as  you  are  concerned,  must  now  end.  I  have  forfeited 
it.  And  even  were  you  willing,  in  your  charity,  to  con- 
tinue that  sufferance,  yet  it  would  be  unwise  for  you  to 
do  so,  and  no  kindness  to  me.  And  even  were  that 
sufferance  — '^ 

^^ Dofi^t  call  it  that!"  she  entreated,  with  such  an 
undertone  of  passion  that  he  looked  a  moment  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"  Even  had  your  friendship  been  merged  into  a  much 
deeper  feeling,"  he  continued,  "  you  perhaps  would  be 
helpless.  The  days  of  shepherds  piping  their  love-songs 
beneath  the  windows  of  princesses  have  gone  by,  if,  in 
fact,  they  ever  existed  outside  of  the  strained  fancies  of 
the  poet.     Love  is  not  all  to-day." 

"  It  is,  for  a  woman,"  she  murmured. 

A  spasm  of  pain  passed  over  his  face,  but  he  continued 
stoically :  "  Country  ministers'  wives  are  not  recruited 
from  the  ranks  of  people  in  your  social  position.  A 
woman  in  your  position  is  not  fitted  by  religious  or  social 
training  for  the  life  of  a  minister's  wife.  I  don't  suppose 
you  could  be  happy  in  such  a  life  —  unless  you  loved 
your  husband  very,  very  much.  Nobody  knows  all  this 
better  than  I.  Therefore  I  say  that  I  did  wrong  in 
coming  here  after  I  saw  the  drift  of  my  affections." 

'*  Are  n't  you  too  hard  on  yourself? "  she  asked,  in 
the  same  suppressed  tone  she  had  been  using,  looking 
steadily  down. 

I  am  not  hard   enough,"  he   returned,  inexorably. 
No  matter  what  I  might  have  hoped,  no  matter  what 


Untying  a  Knot  363 

encouragement  you  might  have  given  me,  I  should,  in 
loyalty  to  my  work,  have  kept  away.  I  should  have 
known  that  it  must  end  in  bitterness.  I  did  know  it." 
He  paused  a  moment,  as  if  reflecting  on  this  bitterness. 
"  Perhaps  it  is  best  —  I  know  it  is  best  —  for  this  bitter- 
ness to  come  now.  And  when  I  reflect  that  you  gave 
me  no  encouragement,  that  I  had  no  real  hope  — "  Again 
he  broke  off  with  a  kind  of  impatient  despair. 

Carol  still  stood  with  averted  eyes,  an  almost  angelic 
sweetness  and  patience  lighting  her  face.  Kaltenborn 
looked  at  the  fair  picture  a  moment  with  longing  eyes, 
and  then  went  on  grimly  :  ''  Can  you  imagine  yourself 
working  with  the  people  of  the  Methodist  Church  here, 
allied  for  life  to  a  man  living  on  a  salary  of  nine  hundred 
dollars  a  year?  —  your  clothes  scanned  every  Sunday, 
and  yourself  censured  if  you  put  on  anything  too  fine, 
and  your  husband  told,  when  he  suggests  that  the  quar- 
terage is  running  behind,  that  his  wife  should  not  in- 
dulge in  such  extravagance?  —  some  of  the  members 
refusing  to  pay  their  quarterage  on  the  ground  that  the 
preacher's  wife  dresses  better  than  their  wives  and 
daughters  do,  and  consequently  doesn't  need  the  money 
as  much  as  they  do?  Could  you  give  up  dancing, 
cards,  and  theatres,  and  cut  yourself  off  from  most  of 
your  old  associates  ?  " 

"  That  is  not  beyond  my  imagination,"  she  answered, 
slowly,  after  a  moment.  Her  eyes  lifted,  but  instantly 
fell  before  his  gaze. 

*'  Do  you  mean  that  you  could  be  happy  under  such 
conditions?  "  he  asked,  wonderingly. 

"  I  can  conceive  of  compensations  that  would  make 
such  a  life,  not  only  tolerable,  but  attractive."  Her  lips 
quivered  a  little,  and  Kaltenborn  looked  at  her  blankly. 


364  The  Darlingtons 

striving  to  fathom  her  meaning.     Such  words  seemed 
truly  strange,  coming  from  her. 

"What  compensations,  for  instance?"  he  asked. 

"The  love  of  a  loyal  man,"  she  answered. 

Her  words  seemed  to  bring  vividly  before  him  all  that 
he  had  lost,  and  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  with  vehemence, 
"  Carol,  I  am  most  unhappy.  The  times  and  I  are  out 
of  joint.  Everything  I  touch  turns  to  dust.  I  am  a 
failure,  and  no  courage,  no  philosophizing,  will  disguise 
the  fact  any  longer.  Something  is  deadly  wrong  with 
me.  The  very  hopelessness  of  my  future  at  this  moment 
makes  me  physically  sick.  Even  supposing  that  all  I 
have  dreamed  of  as  the  acme  of  happiness  were  true  — 
suppose  you  loved  me  enough  to  marry  me.  In  what 
light  would  your  father  and  mother  regard  me  as  a  hus- 
band? They  would  scorn  the  notion.  That  is  what 
drives  me  mad  with  jealousy  and  shame.  I  have  given 
up  all  to  be  a  preacher,  to  work  for  the  uplifting  of  the 
grovellers.  Yet  were  I  to-day  the  manager  of  my 
father's  brewery,  as  I  once  was,  and  the  prospective 
heir  of  his  money,  your  own  father,  whose  boy  has  been 
degraded  so  often  by  that  same  stuff  by  which  my  father 
has  acquired  his  wealth,  would  regard  me  as  a  more 
eligible  husband  for  his  daughter.    You  would  yourself." 

Carol  suddenly  lifted  her  head  and  transfixed  him 
with  a  look  of  such  unutterable  reproach  and  indigna- 
tion that  he  added  quickly,  — 

"  I  mean  that  you  could  more  safely  marry  me  —  that 
you  would  have  a  surer  guarantee  of  happiness.  You 
would  not  be  transplanted  from  one  sphere  of  life  to 
another  —  to  one  that  would  be  strange  to  you  and  cold 
and  constantly  wearing.  That's  what  I  meant,"  he 
added  with  tender  penitence.     "  What  training  have  you 


Untying  a  Knot  365 

had  for  a  minister's  wife  ?  What  sympathy  could  you 
have  for  my  work?"  He  paused,  and  looked  at  her  in- 
tently. ^'  Don't  think  me  harsh.  I  tell  you,  soberly,  it 
would  break  my  heart  to  give  you  pain.  I  appreciate  all 
you  have  been  to  me.  God  knows  I  do  —  your  friend- 
ship and  all.  But  that  vast  gulf  between  us  —  that 
divergence  of  thought  and  motive  and  aim,  which 
began  in  you  long  before  your  birth,  and  has  grown 
more  and  more  marked  ever  since  —  how  can  you  cross 
that  ?  How  can  I  ?  I  have  known  it  —  I  knew  it 
when  I  asked  you  to  become  my  wife." 

"  When  did  you  ask  me  to  become  your  wife  ?  " 

She  lifted  her  eyes  without  shame  or  fear,  as  though 
bidding  him  to  look  into  her  soul.  Kaltenborn  blinked 
at  her  helplessly,  blinded  by  the  light  of  a  great  revela- 
tion. Then  her  eyes  dilated  with  a  sudden  fear,  and  clasp- 
ing her  hands  over  her  shame-flushed  face,  she  cried  in 
anguish  :   "  Oh,  Stephen,  can't  you  see  that  I  love  you  ?  " 

Still  he  sat  speechless  and  motionless,  stunned  with 
the  magnitude  of  his  thoughts.  After  some  time  —  he 
had  no  idea  what  length  of  time  —  he  walked  over  to 
Carol's  chair  with  perfect  composure,  and  laid  his  hand 
upon  her  bowed  head. 

"  Look  up,  love,"  he  said. 

She  shook  her  head,  and  when  he  repeated  his  re- 
quest, she  answered,  "  Not  yet,  Stephen." 

He  dropped  down  beside  her,  with  a  smile,  and 
pulled  her  hands  away.  Still  she  would  not  let  him  look 
into  her  eyes,  and,  encircling  his  neck  with  her  arms, 
she  hid  her  face  upon  his  shoulder. 

When  Kaltenborn  got  back  to  his  lodging,  about 
eleven  o'clock,  he   knocked  at  the  evangelist's   door. 


366  The  Darlingtons 

That  worthy,  Kaltenborn  knew,  was  as  slow  in  going  to 
bed  as  he  was  in  leaving  it  in  the  morning,  and  he  was  not 
surprised  to  find  liim  still  up. 

"How's  your  throat?"  asked  Kaltenborn,  almost 
joyously. 

'•'Better,"  answered  the  evangelist,  eying  Kaltenborn 
sharply. 

"Will  you  preach  to-morrow  night?"  asked  the 
latter. 

*'The  Lord  willing,  I  shall.     What 's  the  racket?  " 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  you,  my  brother,"  said 
Kaltenborn,  with  an  overflow  of  fraternalism  that  made 
the  evangelist  prick  up  his  ears  still  further.  ^^  I  was  out 
to-night  to  see  that  young  woman  who  was  to  give  the 
theatre  party,  —  Miss  Darlington." 

"  Your  landlady  insinuated  as  much  to  me,"  said 
McAndrews,  with  a  grin. 

"I  may  say  in  confidence,"  Kaltenborn  went  on,  in- 
different now  to  Mrs.  Hicks's  flings,  "  that  as  a  friend  of 
hers  I  had  previously  asked  her  to  abandon  this  party. 
I  am  free  to  confess  that  I  see  no  particular  harm  in 
theatre  parties,  and  that  I  asked  her  to  give  up  this  one 
simply  that  our  friendship  might  not  be  jeopardized  —  I 
have  n't  time  now  to  go  into  the  details  of  that.  I 
found  to-night  that  she  had  decided  to  give  up  her 
party  before  she  knew  of  the  destruction  of  the  opera- 
house  at  High  Point.  In  fact,  by  a  rather  queer  co- 
incidence, she  had  the  letters  cancelling  her  invitations 
in  her  hand,  and  was  standing  at  the  post-office  door, 
when  the  telegram  was  brought  up  to  her.  At  dinner 
you  told  me  that,  in  view  of  the  burning  of  the  opera- 
house,  you  would  substitute  for  the  sermon  against 
theatre-going   one    called  'The  Hand  of  God.'     This 


Untying  a  Knot  367 

sermon,  I  take  it  from  what  you  said,  treats  such 
events  as  the  destruction  of  this  opera-house  as  provi- 
dential interventions  in  many  cases ;  and  I  presume  you 
mean  to  make  a  local  application  in  this  particular  case. 
Without  raising  a  doctrinal  point,  I  want  to  ask  you, 
in  view  of  the  self-denying  and  magnanimous  conduct  of 
this  young  woman,  not  to  preach  even  the  '  Hand  of 
God '  sermon.  It  would  do  Miss  Darlington  a  great  in- 
justice, especially  as  she  cannot  publicly  explain  what 
I  have  just  explained  to  you.  And  she  would  n't  do  it 
if  she  could,"  he  added. 

The  evangelist,  who  had  listened  with  the  greatest  in- 
terest, calmly  lit  a  cigar.  "  Kaltenborn,  if  your  simple 
request  induced  that  young  woman  to  give  up  her 
party,"  he  exclaimed,  admiringly,  ''  you  ought  to  go  into 
evangelistic  work." 

A  slight  flush  showed  on  Kaltenborn's  cheek,  and  he 
said,  smilingly,  "Then  you  will  forego  that  sermon?" 

"  Certainly  I  will,  certainly.  I  'd  be  a  brute  if  I 
did  n't.  She 's  done  her  duty,  but  whether  by  her  God 
or  by  you,  I  'm  not  clear."  He  gazed  meditatively  at 
the  ceiling,  taking  little,  short,  highly  relishable  puffs  at 
his  cigar.  "  I  '11  have  to  get  up  a  new  sermon  for  next 
Saturday  night,  I  guess.  Friday  night  exhausts  my 
repertory.  You  see,  throwing  out  'The  Fleshpots 
of  Egypt'  —  that's  the  theatre  sermon, —  and  'The 
Hand  of  God '  both,  kind  of  cuts  me  short.  Still,  it 
strikes  me  that  I've  got  one  shot  left  in  my  lockers. 
Yes  !  Any  Mormon  elders  been  around  here  lately, 
proselyting,  —  say  within  the  last  year?  " 

"None  that  I  know  of,"  answered  Kaltenborn,  re- 
pressing a  smile. 

"  I  'm  sorry  —  under  the  circumstances.     One  of  the 


368  The  Darlingtons 

hottest  shots  I  Ve  got  is  *  Mormonism  :  the  Degradation 
of  Woman,  and  the  Desolation  of  the  Home.'  The  only 
trouble  with  it  is  you  can't  blaze  away  at  random. 
There  would  n't  be  much  sense,  you  see,  in  preaching 
it  here  unless  you  've  had  a  Mormon  elder  or  two  with 
you  in  the  past  year  or  so.  It 's  kind  of  funny  you  ain't 
had,  too.  I  strike  their  trail  in  a  good  many  places^ 
and  when  it  ain't  too  cold.  I  go  after  'em  —  hot." 


CHAPTER    XXX 

THE   serpent's    CUNNING 

Herbert  Darlington  sat  in  his  office  looking  over  some 
manuscript  tariff-sheets  which  were  to  go  to  the  printer 
in  the  morning.  It  was  night,  and  the  building  was  so 
still  that  he  could  hear  the  faint  scampering  to  and  fro 
of  a  mouse  which  had  recently  taken  up  quarters  some- 
where in  his  room.  The  slight  noise  disturbed  him  out 
of  all  proportion  to  its  volume ;  and,  pausing  in  his 
work,  he  fell  to  thinking  of  a  harassing  detective  story 
he  had  once  read  when  a  boy,  in  which  the  young 
Sleuth  was  cast  into  an  underground  vault  full  of  raven- 
ous rats.  Bert  had  reached  that  point  in  his  retrospec- 
tion where  the  young  hero  was  battHng  with  sleep  on 
one  hand  and  the  ferocious  rodents  on  the  other,  when 
the  venturesome  mouse  went  scuttling  through  the 
waste-paper  basket.  The  sharp,  crackling  sound  made 
Bert  jump,  and  in  a  gust  of  temper  very  unusual  in  him, 
he  kicked  the  basket  across  the  room. 

He  turned  to  the  sheets  again,  but  he  had  no  heart 
for  the  work.  The  room  seemed  cold,  though  it  was 
a  mild  summer  evening,  and  the  stillness,  now  that  the 
mouse  was  frightened  into  silence,  oppressed  him.  He 
arose,  and  for  some  minutes  walked  restlessly  up  and 
down  the  room,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  It  was 
important  that  the  tariff-sheets  should  go  to  the  printer 

24 


370  The  Darlingtons 

in  the  morning,  yet  he  finally  locked  them  up  unfin- 
ished, lighted  a  cigar,  and  turned  out  the  Hghts. 

On  the  outside  steps  below,  he  asked  himself  where 
he  should  go.  It  was  just  half-past  eight.  Elsie's 
parlor  naturally  came  to  his  mind  first,  but  he  as  quickly 
dismissed  the  thought.  Old  man  Clifford  was  more 
than  he  could  tolerate  just  then,  and,  somehow,  even 
Elsie  did  not  appeal  to  him.  But  conscious  of  his 
unjust  mood,  he  tried  to  picture  himself  at  her  door, 
then  in  the  parlor,  then  talking  with  her.  It  would  not 
do  ;  he  knew  he  would  be  moody  and  taciturn  and 
despondent. 

There  were  still  left  his  home  and  his  club.  The 
latter  was  a  little  social  organization  with  quarters  in  the 
Ashboro  Inn.  The  rooms  contained  a  piano  and  a 
billiard  table,  and  here  the  boys  smoked  or  read  or 
played  cards  or  sang.  The  membership  embraced  ten 
or  twelve  of  Ashboro's  most  prominent  young  men ; 
but,  in  spite  of  this,  it  was  hinted  in  many  quarters  that 
a  great  deal  of  wickedness  went  on  behind  the  drawn 
curtains  of  the  club,  and  it  had  been  denounced  from 
the  pulpit  of  the  Methodist  Church,  before  Kaltenborn's 
time,  as  a  half-way  house  to  hell.  These  strictures 
were  grossly  unjust  for  the  most  part,  though  it  is  prob- 
able that  some  things  did  go  on  at  the  club  which  would 
not  bear  the  broad  light  of  day. 

Bert  finally  decided  to  go  home.  But  at  the  gate  an 
unaccountable  melancholy  took  possession  of  him  —  a 
feeling  akin  to  homesickness.  The  house  before  him 
had  an  unfamiliar,  inhospitable  air  in  the  starlight,  and 
increased  the  chilliness  which  he  had  felt  in  the  office. 
He  thought  that  possibly  he  was  going  to  have  a  chill, 
and  that  the  best  thing  for  him  to  do  would  be  to  go  to 


The  Serpent's  Cunning  371 

bed.  But  toward  his  own  room  he  felt  an  especial 
repugnance,  and  the  idea  of  going  to  bed  there,  just 
then,  was  exceedingly  disagreeable. 

Standing  there  irresolute,  his  thoughts  again  turned  to 
Elsie,  and  as  quickl}'  turned  away  again.  Her  home  was 
even  more  cheerless  to  his  fancy  just  then  than  his  own. 
As  a  last  resort,  therefore,  he  decided  on  the  club ;  but 
as  he  walked  aimlessly  along,  and  ran  over  in  his  mind 
those  he  would  be  most  likely  to  find  there,  he  was  con- 
scious of  a  sharp  antipathy  to  all  of  them.  He  might 
go  up  to  the  Business  Men's  Club,  of  which  he  was  also 
a  member,  he  reflected.  He  usually  found  little  pleas- 
ure in  the  society  of  the  elderly  men  who  gathered 
there,  but  to-night,  with  the  perversity  which  had 
fastened  upon  him,  he  fancied  that  it  would  be  rather 
entertaining  to  watch  these  old  men  playing  penuchle, 
or  hsten  to  them  discussing  poHtics.  He  stepped  off 
quite  briskly,  with  a  certain  cozy  sofa  in  mind  on  which 
he  could  lie  back  and  smoke,  and,  comparatively  un- 
observed, hear  and  see  all  that  went  on. 

After  going  a  block  he  suddenly  stopped.  His  father 
would  be  there  —  he  had  heard  him  say  at  dinner  that 
he  thought  he  would  go  up  that  evening.  Just  why  this 
fact  should  influence  him,  Bert  did  not  know  or  pause 
to  inquire ;  but  the  thought  had  given  him  a  sudden 
distaste  for  the  Business  Men's  Club  also.  He  swung 
around,  and  walked  back  to  the  house,  yawning  discon- 
solately. Entering  his  room  and  snapping  on  the  elec- 
tric light,  he  glanced  around  him,  without  taking  off  his 
hat  or  sitting  down.  In  spite  of  its  luxurious  furnish- 
ings, the  place  was  just  as  cheerless  as  he  had  expected 
to  find  it. 

His  books  offered  no  temptation  to  remain,  for  he 


372  The  Darlingtons 

never  read  much,  and  still  less  on  these  warm  evenings. 
His  Bible  —  a  present  from  his  mother  years  before  — 
lay  on  the  table.  He  smiled  half-cynically  as  he 
recalled  the  earnestness  with  which  he  had  searched  its 
pages  during  his  convalescence.  He  had  not  opened  it 
now  for  several  weeks,  and  felt  less  than  ever  like  doing 
so  at  this  moment.  But  in  sheer  contrariness  he  did 
open  it,  still  standing,  and  glanced  idly  at  a  random 
page.  The  words  were  as  dead  and  foreign  to  him  in 
spirit  as  though  they  had  been  written  on  another 
planet,  by  a  race  of  beings  buried  and  forgotten  aeons 
before.  He  tossed  the  book  down  irreverently,  and 
walked  out. 

There  was  a  light  in  Carol's  room,  but  he  did  not  go 
in.  In  fact,  he  softened  his  footfalls  somewhat  as  he 
passed  her  door ;  and  when  he  went  out  the  front  door, 
he  closed  it  with  rather  less  noise  than  usual. 

For  an  hour  or  two  he  roamed  the  streets  in  the 
residence  part  of  the  town,  with  his  eyes  turned  toward 
the  starry  heavens.  At  times  he  was  filled  with  the  most 
ennobling  thoughts,  and  a  strange  happiness  thrilled 
him  ;  again  he  fell  into  a  despondent,  self-pitying  mood. 
On  the  whole,  though,  he  felt  much  better  at  ten 
o'clock,  and  turned  his  steps  homeward  quite  cheerfully. 
But  at  the  gate  he  felt  the  same  insurmountable  repug- 
nance to  going  to  bed,  and  in  a  flash  he  decided  to  go 
up  to  the  club,  late  as  it  was. 

As  he  walked  down  the  slope,  he  saw  his  father  and 
another  man  under  a  street-lamp  ahead,  approaching 
him.  For  no  reason  that  he  could  assign,  except  that 
he  was  in  a  solitary  mood,  he  crossed  the  street  into  the 
shadow,  and  passed  them  unrecognized. 

At  the  club  four  or  five  young  fellows.  Cash  Winter 


The  Serpent's  Cunning  373 

among  them,  were  sitting  around  a  card-table.  One  of 
them  was  idly  shuffling  a  pack  of  cards;  the  others 
were  tilted  back  in  their  chairs,  as  though  they  had 
finished  playing.  Bert  saluted  them  briefly,  and  not 
very  sociably;  and,  standing  a  little  apart  from  them, 
smoked  his  cigar  in  momentary  silence.  His  presence 
seemed  to  throw  a  restraint  over  the  others,  as  though 
possibly  they  had  been  discussing  something  not  meant 
for  his  ears.  Bert  felt  this,  and  was  about  to  move  into 
the  other  room,  when  one  of  the  boys  said,  — 

"  Bring  out  your  bottle,  Jackson.  Bert 's  no  baby. 
Besides,  it  ain't  a  square  deal." 

The  young  man  addressed  as  Jackson  hesitated  a 
moment,  and  then  with  evident  reluctance  took  from  a 
little  shelf  under  the  table  —  ordinarily  used  for  chips  — 
several  small  whiskey-glasses  and  a  squat  brown  bottle. 
While  he  filled  the  glasses,  another  member  of  the  com- 
pany went  for  water  for  a  "wash." 

"  I  '11  have  one  on  you,  too,  Jackson."  It  was  Bert 
who  spoke.  He  did  not  smile,  and  there  was  a  hardness, 
almost  a  defiance,  in  his  voice  and  eyes. 

The  company  instantly  exchanged  significant  glances, 
which  Bert  could  not  have  failed  to  notice.  Jackson,  with 
his  hand  still  on  the  bottle,  flushed  slightly,  and  glanced 
almost  appealingly  at  the  others.  Their  faces  were  ex- 
pressionless.   Then  Jackson  slowly  filled  another  glass. 

"  Bert,  if  you  drink,.  I  don't,"  said  Winter,  decidedly, 
setting  his  glass  down,  and  looking  Darlington  squarely 
in  the  eye. 

Bert  grew  slightly  paler,  and  did  not  speak  for  a  mo- 
ment. Then  he  said,  haughtily,  "  Very  well,  I  will  not 
interfere  with  your  pleasure,"  and  stalked  out  of  the 
roorau 


374  "T^^  Darlingtons 

As  he  approached  the  bright  front  of  a  saloon  on  the 
street  below,  —  the  other  fronts  were  dark,  —  he  was 
conscious  of  a  temptation  to  go  in.  Not  to  drink,  simply 
to  go  in.  The  temptation  to  drink  had  passed  away. 
He  resolved,  though,  that  he  would  not  even  go  in  ;  but 
after  passing  the  door,  he  deliberately  turned  back ;  and 
it  was  with  a  peculiar,  almost  dehghtful,  sensation  that 
he  felt  himself  carried  along  into  the  saloon,  —  without 
volition,  as  it  were,  something  like  one  who  falls  through 
space  in  a  dream.  He  stopped  at  the  cigar-case,  how- 
ever, bought  a  cigar,  lit  it,  looked  around  in  a  slightly 
bewildered  way,  and  walked  out  again.  When  he  reached 
the  next  corner  he  was  trembling  all  over,  and  his  forehead 
was  damp  with  perspiration. 

A  panic  feehng  like  hysteria  was  taking  possession 
of  him.  He  felt  what  he  had  never  felt  before.  The 
horrible  feehng  was  on  him,  like  some  nightmare,  that  he 
was  going  to  take  a  drink,  and  was  going  to  get  drunk. 
In  the  grip  of  this  terrible  sensation,  he  felt  as  helpless  as 
a  maniac  in  his  frenzy.  In  his  terror,  his  wits  fled ;  his 
blood  seemed  turned  to  ice-water,  and  a  deadly  coldness 
settled  around  his  heart.  He  felt  as  if  he  was  going  to 
faint,  and  a  moment  later  his  knees  did  in  fact  give  way, 
and  he  sank  gently  to  the  sidewalk,  just  as  one  of  the 
young  fellows  he  had  left  in  the  club  came  up.  He 
looked  sharply  down  at  Bert  in  the  darkness,  and  then, 
as  if  assured  that  nothing  much  was  wrong,  he  asked  : 

"What 's  the  matter,  old  man?  " 

The  other's  voice  and  presence  stimulated  Bert  imme- 
diately. "  Dropped  my  knife,"  he  mumbled,  and  to  gain 
time  made  a  pretence  of  groping  over  the  dark  pave- 
ment. The  other  was  about  to  strike  a  match  when 
Bert  added,  "  Never  mind  !  I  've  got  it."  By  a  supreme 
effort,  he  raised  himself  to  his  feet. 


The  Serpent's  Cunning  375 

The  other  was  in  a  sociable  mood,  —  perhaps  he  fell 
a  Httle  contrite  over  the  recent  scene  in  the  club  rooms,  — 
and  he  stood  and  talked  for  ten  minutes.  Those  minutes 
were  as  so  many  hours  of  torture  to  Herbert.  He  heard  a 
voice  a  long  way  off.  talking  of  things  that  he  knew 
nothing  about,  but  which  he  was  conscious  he  ought  to 
know  something  about.  He  answered  as  best  he  could, 
though,  and  his  companion  seemed  to  discover  nothing 
amiss.  After  a  little  Bert's  faculties  cleared,  and  when 
his  companion  finally  moved  away,  he  was  almost  sorry. 

He  grasped  his  cane  tightly,  and  walked  swiftly  up 
the  slope  toward  his  home.  But  he  did  not  stop  there, 
or  even  pause.  He  kept  on,  until  he  reached  Mrs. 
Hicks's  cottage.  He  stood  on  the  steps  some  time  be- 
fore he  rang  the  bell,  though,  and  once  he  half  turned 
away ;  but  immediately  feeling  a  return  of  that  miser- 
able, lost,  helpless  sensation,  he  eagerly  and  desperately 
seized  the  knob  of  the  old-fashioned  bell.  After  some 
delay,  Mrs.  Hicks  cautiously  opened  the  door  a  few 
inches.  Bert  asked  for  Kaltenborn  with  what  he  felt  to 
be  cowardly  eagerness,  but  he  was  almost  shameless  now. 
He  stiffened  in  terror  when  the  old  lady  told  him  that 
Kaltenborn  was  over  at  Brandy  wine,  attending  an 
Epworth  League  convention,  and  would  not  be  back  for 
two  days.  Then  recognizing  Bert,  she  opened  the  door 
a  little  further,  and  asked  him  if  any  one  was  sick. 

Bert  did  not  answer.  For  a  moment  he  felt  like 
throwing  himself  at  the  old  woman's  feet,  and  begging 
her  to  save  him.  But  even  under  the  scourge  of  his 
dread  terror,  his  pride  balked  at  this  humiliation,  and  he 
abruptly  turned  away  into  the  darkness  without  another 
word. 

Brandy  wine  was  on  the  H.  P.,  R.;  A.,  and  S.  railroad, 


376  The  Darlingtons 

and  for  a  moment  Bert  entertained  a  wild  idea  of  going 
down  to  the  round-house,  ordering  an  engine  fired  up, 
and  being  taken  to  Kaltenborn.  But  again  his  pride 
balked,  —  he  felt  a  little  better  now,  —  and  he  walked 
swiftly  toward  Elsie  Clifford's  home.  To  his  inexpressible 
joy,  there  was  a  light  in  her  room,  which  was  in  the  front 
of  the  house,  over  the  parlor.  Dismissing  his  first  idea 
of  ringing,  he  tiptoed  up  into  the  stoop,  from  the  side  of 
which  he  could  command  a  view  of  Elsie's  window. 
Clasping  the  post  tightly  in  his  arms,  he  gazed  up  at  the 
illuminated  curtain,  as  he  might  have  gazed  at  the  rock 
of  salvation,  his  lips  parted,  his  eyes  glistening  with  a 
piteous  intensity,  his  fine  face  rapt  with  reverence  and 
awe. 

He  had  held  this  fixed  position  for  some  time  when 
the  shadow  of  a  figure  fell  across  the  curtain,  lingered  an 
instant,  and  disappeared. 

"  Dear  little  girl !  dear  little  girl !  dear  little  Elsie  !  " 
he  whispered,  with  transcendent  solemnity.  '^  I  am  not 
afraid.  I  can  fight  it  out.  I  '11  be  brave.  I  won't  give 
up.  I  '11  do  it  for  your  sake,  sweet  one.  I  love  you, 
darling.  I  love  you  so  much.  I  will  always  love  you. 
I  will  die  for  you.  I  will  be  brave  for  you.  I  am  not 
afraid,  am  I,  dear  one  ?  You  won't  let  me  fall,  will  you  ? 
Pray  for  me,  love,  and  God  will  help  me  for  your  sake. 
I  can't  be  bad  as  long  as  you  love  me.  No,  no,  sweet 
little  girl,  dear  little  girl,  pride  of  my  life,  salvation  of  the 
world  ! " 

As  he  clung  to  that  hard,  insensate  post,  minute  after 
minute,  peace  came  to  his  storm-tossed  soul.  Somebody 
went  by,  whistling,  on  the  other  side  of  the  street.  Bert 
listened  as  attentively  as  though  it  were  the  enthralling 
strains  of  an  angel  band.     Then  he  smiled,  —  a  happy, 


The  Serpent's  Cunning  377 

joyous  smile.  Ah,  it  was  so  good  to  live  !  So  good  to 
breathe  the  cool  night  air !  So  good  to  look  up  at  the 
stars  !  So  good  to  smell  the  first  early  flowers  !  He 
wondered  who  it  could  be  that  whistled  so  merrily. 
Whoever  it  was  must  be  very  happy.  He  wondered  if 
the  person  had  ever  drunk,  or  if  his  father  ever  had,  or 
his  grandfather.  Probably  not,  or  he  would  not  be  so 
happy,  he  thought,  with  a  momentary  pang.  But  the 
pain  instantly  passed.  Most  people  were  happy.  Many 
parents  and  grandparents  had  drunk,  and  yet  their  sons 
and  grandsons  had  saved  themselves.     He  had,  for  one. 

He  slipped  out  into  the  street  again,  like  a  strong  man 
ready  for  the  race.  What  a  glorious  thing  to  be  a  man  ! 
To  be  able  to  overcome  by  will-power  alone  the  miser- 
able, degrading  weaknesses  of  the  body  !  And  to  know 
that  one  had  overcome  them  !  His  exultation  was  almost 
painful,  for  in  that  moment  he  was  convinced  that  he 
had  exorcised  forever  the  demon  which  had  afflicted  him 
so  sorely  and  so  long.  He  held  his  head  high ;  he 
walked  with  a  springy  step ;  he  twirled  his  cane  jauntily ; 
he  carolled  snatches  of  song. 

Could  a  hunchbacked,  shrivelled,  crooked-limbed 
dwarf  be  magically  made  over  while  he  slept  into  a  fair- 
faced,  strong,  clean-Hmbed  man,  his  joy  and  amazement 
over  his  metamorphosis  could  scarcely  be  greater  than 
were  young  DarHngton's  over  his  own  metamorphosis. 
He  felt  like  one  emerging  from  the  pitchy  blackness  and 
horrid  cries  of  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  out 
into  the  glorious  sunlight  of  God,  with  warmth  and  life 
and  singing  birds  and  nodding  flowers  all  around.  A 
new  era  in  his  life  had  begun.  He  was  now  like  other 
men.  He  could  do  as  they  did.  So  confident  was  he, 
in  the  plenitude  of  this  new  and  amazing  strength,  that 


378 


The  Darlingtons 


he  felt  he  could  even  take  one  drink,  had  he  wanted  it, 
and  then  easily  stop  there.  True,  he  had  felt  so  in  the 
past,  and  had  been  deceived ;  but  there  was  something 
vastly  different  in  his  present  confidence. 

After  a  little,  he  felt  a  desire  to  prove  that  difference, 
not  only  for  his  own  satisfaction,  but  for  the  satisfaction 
of  those  who  might  happen  to  see  him  drink.  Some- 
thing within  him  warned  him,  even  now,  not  to  try  this. 
But  as  he  felt  not  the  slightest  craving  for  liquor,  and  as 
this  prudent  thought  wounded  his  new  pride,  and  chilled 
his  ardor,  he  impatiently  shook  it  off. 


i 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

REAPING  THE   WHIRLWIND 

Bert  deliberately  walked  down-town  again.  The 
saloons  were  ostensibly  closed  at  this  hour,  but  he  had 
no  difficulty  in  effecting  an  entrance.  The  bar-tender, 
though,  after  seeing  who  it  was  that  he  had  admitted, 
looked  anything  but  pleased,  and  reluctantly  went  back, 
to  his  place  behind  the  bar.  No  other  customers  were 
present,  but  the  click  of  billiard-balls  and  the  sound  of 
tipsy  levity  came  from  a  back  room. 

*'  I  '11  take  a  little  whiskey,  please,"  said  Bert,  in  a 
clear,  firm  tone.  When  the  liquor  was  set  out,  he 
steadily  poured  the  glass  half  full,  looked  the  bar-tender 
squarely  in  the  eye,  as  he  lifted  the  draught  to  his  Hps, 
and  then  drank  it  down.  As  he  set  the  glass  back,  a 
burst  of  rude  laughter  came  from  the  other  room. 

"It  is  too  bad  that  some  people  have  to  abuse 
whiskey,"  observed  Bert,  quietly,  taking  an  easy  position 
against  the  bar.  The  bar-tender  seemed  inclined  to 
take  this  sentiment,  coming  from  a  man  of  Darlington's 
notorious  reputation,  as  a  joke.  But  something  in  the 
young  fellow's  face  restrained  the  bar-tender's  knowing 
smile,  and  he  gave  Bert  a  searching,  puzzled  second 
glance. 

"  It  takes  all  kinds  of  people,  Mr.  Darl'n'ton,  to  make 
a  world,"  he  answered,  conservatively,  as  he  rinsed  the 
glasses. 


380  The  Darlingtons 


"The  world  could  very  profitably  dispense  with  that 
kind/'  returned  Bert,  pointedly.  He  stood  and  smoked 
in  silence  for  a  moment.  "  I  believe  I  '11  have  another 
one,"  he  added,  in  the  same  quiet  tone. 

The  bar-tender  set  the  bottle  and  glasses  out  again 
with  evident  reluctance,  and  glanced  half-involuntarily 
into  the  back  room,  as  though  he  were  calculating 
on  what  assistance  he  might  receive  from  that  quar- 
ter in  case  young  Darlington  had  one  of  his  dreaded 
"spells,"  with  which  the  bar-tender  was  only  too  well 
acquainted. 

Bert  did  not  fail  to  notice  the  other's  reluctance,  and 
he  said  graciously,  pausing  with  the  brown  bottle  in  his 
hand,  "■  You  fellows  have  been  a  little  bit  afraid  of  me  in 
the  past,  have  n't  you  ?  ". 

"Well,  I  guess  we  have,"  said  the  other,  with  a 
sycophantic  grin.  "  You  're  pretty  bad  when  you  get 
started." 

"  I/ll  never  get  started  again,"  said  Bert,  impressively, 
as  he  tossed  off  the  liquor.  "  That 's  all  in  the  past.  I 
have  been  cured." 

The  bar-tender  received  this  statement  with  a  rather 
dubious  countenance  at  first.  But  the  man  before  him 
was  so  plainly  sober  that  he  asked,  finally,  "Gold 
cure  ?  " 

''No,  no,  nothing  like  that,"  answered  Bert,  quickly. 
"  Something  infinitely  better." 

"  I  never  had  much  faith  in  that  gold  cure,"  observed 
the  vender.     "  I  've  seen  too  many  relapses." 

"  Any  purely  physical  cure  is  bound  to  end  in  a 
relapse,"  said  Bert,  loftily.  "  My  cure  was  nothing  of  that 
kind.  I  am  hardly  at  liberty  to  say  just  what  it  was.  I 
discovered  it  myself,  though.     Or,  rather,  it  came  to  me. 


Reaping  the  Whirlwind         381 

I  may  say  that  I  consider  it  as  a  pure  and  simple  gift  of 
God's." 

The  bar-tender's  dubious  air  returned,  and  he  fur- 
tively scrutinized  his  customer's  face  again  for  any  evi- 
dence of  earlier  potations  that  evening.  "  Still,  a  man  's 
got  to  be  careful  after  takin'  any  cure,"  he  observed, 
practically. 

A  shadowy  smile  flitted  over  Bert's  classic  features, 
half  amused,  half  sarcastic.  Evidently  he  had  not 
missed  the  animus  of  the  other's  remark.  He  did 
not  answer,  but  when  he  shortly  said,  "  I  guess  I  '11  take 
one  more  and  then  go  home,"  it  was  with  the  manner  of 
flouting  the  other's  admonition. 

The  bar-tender,  now  that  the  prospect  of  a  speedy 
riddance  of  his  dangerous  customer  was  in  sight,  set  the 
Hquor  out  with  greater  alacrity  this  time.  Still,  Bert 
showed  no  disposition  to  go  after  this  drink,  but  stood 
gazing  intently  at  a  piece  of  terra  cotta  statuary  repre- 
senting an  old  Knickerbocker,  which  stood  on  the  end 
of  the  bar.  The  vender  waited  patiently  several  min- 
utes, and  then  said  with  a  forced  yawn,  "  Well,  I  guess 
I  '11  close  up,"  and  turned  to  his  cash  register  to  make 
up  his  cash. 

"Give  me  another  drink,"  said  Bert,  without  turning 
his  head  ;  and  there  was  something  so  peremptory  in  his 
tone  that  the  bar-tender,  with  his  knowledge  of  Bert's 
nature  when  in  hquor,  dared  not  refuse. 

After  serving  the  drink,  he  turned  to  his  cash  again, 
at  which  he  worked  with  unusual  expedition,  at  the  same 
time  bawling  to  the  occupants  of  the  back  room  to 
hurry  up  and  finish  their  game,  as  he  wanted  to  lock 
up.  Before  he  was  through,  though,  another  request 
for  a  drink  came  from  Bert.     The  bar-tender  paused  in 


382  The  Darlingtons 

his  work,  with  his  broad  back  toward  his  customer.  He 
could  see  Bert's  reflection  in  the  mirror.  As  yet  the 
young  man  showed  no  marked  evidence  of  intoxication. 
He  stood  erect,  and  spoke  with  no  thickness  or  uncer- 
tainty. But  his  cheeks  were  flushed,  and  his  eyes  very 
bright  and  sHghtly  vacant. 

"Ain't  you  had  about  enough?"  asked  the  bar- 
tender, harshly. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Bert,  with  ultra  pohteness, 
at  the  same  time  leaning  over  the  bar,  as  if  to  indicate 
that  he  had  not  heard. 

"  I  said  I  thought  you  'd  had  about  enough,"  repeated 
the  bar-tender,  not  so  boldly  as  before. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Bert  again.  It  would 
have  been  a  very  dull  man  indeed  that  could  have 
missed  the  significance  ^(  Darlington's  expression  and 
tone  this  time.  The  bar-tender  backed  down,  and  said, 
with  forced  geniahty,  — 

"  Have  one  on  me,  Bert,  and  then  go  home." 

"  I  drink  only  at  the  expense  of  my  friends,"  answered 
Bert,  haughtily,  throwing  down  a  silver  dollar. 

After  swallowing  the  dram,  he  again  began  to  study 
the  terra  cotta  figure.  The  vender  watched  him  ner- 
vously, and  though  nearly  twice  the  weight  of  the  slim 
young  fellow,  he  again  glanced  out  into  the  back  room. 
Suddenly,  without  the  least  warning,  Bert  lifted  his  cane 
and  smashed  the  image  into  a  thousand  pieces.  He 
then  resumed  his  easy  posture  without  vouchsafing  the 
astounded  and  indignant  bar-tender  so  much  as  a  glance. 

"What's  that  for?"  the  other  demanded,  threaten- 
ingly, but  his  bravado  rang  false. 

"  I  did  n't  like  the  way  it  looked  at  me,"  answered 
Darlington,  gravely.     "  Its  eyes  looked  at  me  with  a 


Reaping  the  Whirlwind         383 

steadiness  verging  upon  impoliteness.  They  seemed  to 
insinuate  that  I  am  drunk.  They  winked,  as  if  to  say, 
*  Behold  the  man  ! '  They  rolled,  and  grew  large  and 
small,  and  looked  as  cold  as  a  fish's.  They  bulged  and 
stared  and  looked  as  though  they  were  afraid  of  me. 
In  fact,  bar-tender,"  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  swinging 
about  and  facing  the  other  with  a  satanic  glitter  in  his 
eyes,  ''they  looked  a  good  deal  as  yours  look  now  !  " 

The  bar-tender  tried  to  laugh  it  off,  but  his  lips 
stiffened  with  terror.  The  image  that  faced  him  so 
threateningly  was  in  fact  appalling,  for  Bert  was  fast 
lapsing  into  what  may  be  called  a  second  consciousness. 
The  gentle,  manly  youth  was  making  way  for  the  bestial, 
homicidal  fiend.  The  amiable  mouth  drooped  cruelly 
and  the  tender  gray  eyes  of  an  hour  before  gave  no  more 
promise  of  mercy  now  than  those  of  a  famishing  tigress. 

The  bar-tender,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  seized 
a  beer  mallet,  and  began  to  back  away.  Bert  vaulted 
lightly  over  the  bar  and  grasped  a  lemon-knife,  bran- 
dished it  high  in  the  air,  and  sprang  forward.  The 
other  fled  with  a  cry  of  terror.  Bert  did  not  pursue 
him,  but  the  flying  man  did  not  pause  until  he  had 
escaped  through  the  back  door.  The  loafers  in  the 
billiard-room  quickly  followed  him,  with  a  sobriety  and 
prudence  which  one  would  hardly  have  credited  them 
with  a  moment  before. 

The  maniacal  fury  which  follow-ed  in  the  unfortunate 
youth,  resulting  in  the  almost  complete  destruction  of 
the  furnishings  of  the  saloon,  is  not  to  be  described. 
From  that  time  Bert  remembered  nothing  clearly. 
Events  came  and  went  like  a  dream.  The  dark  street 
in  which  he  soon  found  himself,  gave  way  after  a 
little  to  the  glare  of  some  lighted  room.      He  saw  dark 


384  The  Darlingtons 

figures  advance  and  recede,  and  was  vaguely  conscious 
that  they  were  inflicting  pain  of  some  kind  upon  him. 
But  he  didn't  mind  the  pain  much,  and,  retaliating,  the 
dark  figures  were  soon  all  dispersed  and  he  was  alone 
again. 

When  he  next  became  conscious,  he  heard  the  click 
of  wheels  beneath  him,  and  recognized  the  swaying 
motion  of  a  railroad  coach.  When  the  train  seemed  to 
stop  longer  than  usual  he  got  off,  —  he  had  no  idea  how 
or  where.  It  was  night  again,  he  took  it,  for  he  saw  a 
long  fine  of  lights  stretching  away  ahead  of  him.  He 
asked  somebody  on  the  street  what  town  it  was.  The 
person  only  laughed  at  him.  Bert  struck  at  him,  there 
was  a  sound  of  rapidly  retreating  footsteps,  and  he  was 
again  alone. 

He  wanted  whiskey  again  now.  When  he  finally 
found  his  way  into  a  saloon,  and  ordered  a  drink,  the 
bar-tender  asked  him  to  show  his  money  first.  Bert 
quietly  laid  down  a  handful  of  bills  and  silver  on  the  bar 
—  all  the  money  he  had.  The  man  picked  out  a  bill 
and  handed  him  back  some  change.  Bert  knew  he  was 
being  robbed ;  still  he  said  nothing,  but  sat  down  in  a 
chair  and  instantly  fell  asleep. 

He  awoke  with  his  own  name  sounding  in  his  ears. 
The  room  was  full  of  fog,  apparently,  and  through  the 
fog  dark  shapes  passed  to  and  fro.  These  shapes  were 
men,  he  knew,  and  they  were  after  him,  he  conceived. 
Tottering  toward  an  open  door,  he  crept  down  a  flight  of 
steps  on  hands  and  knees.  It  was  damp  and  cold  at 
the  bottom,  like  a  cellar,  and  he  hid  himself  behind 
some  barrels. 

His  next  consciousness  found  him  aboard  another 
train.      This   mystified    him  considerably,  but  he  was 


Reaping  the  Whirlwind         385 

too  stupid  yet  to  attempt  any  reasoning.  For  some 
time  he  watched  the  landscape  flying  by,  though  it 
was  only  a  dark,  blurred  mass  to  him.  As  he  thus 
leaned  heavily  against  the  window-ledge,  he  became 
conscious  of  some  hard  object  pressing  against  his  side. 
Investigating,  he  discovered  a  pint  flask  in  his  pocket, 
containing  a  few  spoonfuls  of  whiskey.  The  sight  of  the 
stuff  nauseated  him,  but  he  knew  its  value  as  a  stimulant, 
and  he  forced  it  down  his  throat.  For  a  moment  it 
made  him  very  sick,  and  then  his  pulse  began  to 
strengthen,  and  he  was  soon  able  to  take  note  of  the 
faces  around  him.  Finally,  a  young  brakeman  came 
through  the  car,  and,  stopping  at  Bert's  seat,  asked  him 
how  he  felt. 

"What  day  is  this?"  asked   Bert,  weakly,    without 
answering. 


ii' 


■This  is  Friday,"  answered  the  other. 

A  spasm  of  pain  passed  over  Bert's  face,  but  he 
merely  said,  ^^Thank  you,"  and  turned  to  the  window 
again.     He  had  been  out  since  Tuesday  night. 

He  ran  his  hand  over  his  face.  It  was  covered  with 
a  three  days'  stubble.  The  movement  revealed  to  him, 
further,  that  his  hands  were  as  grimy  as  a  coal-heaver's, 
and  were  badly  cut  and  bruised.  He  noticed,  too,  that 
his  diamond  ring  was  gone.  He  next  glanced  down  at 
his  clothes.  A  tramp's  could  hardly  have  been  more 
disreputable,  for  he  was  literally  in  rags.  He  felt  for  his 
watch  only  to  find  that  also  gone,  and  he  remembered 
that  it  was  the  third  watch  he  had  thus  lost  since  his 
twentieth  birthday. 

When  the  brakeman  next  came  through  the  car,  Bert 
halted  him.  "Where  is  my  father?"  he  asked  in  hag- 
gard tones. 

25 


386  The  Darlingtons 

"  He  '11  be  at  the  depot  with  a  carriage  when  we  get 
to  Ashboro.  The  conductor  telegraphed  to  him  at 
Rankelman  that  we  had  you.  Your  father  was  out  on 
the  line  lookin'  for  you  yesterday  and  the  day  before," 
he  added,  famiharly. 

At  that  moment  a  gentleman  passed  through  the  car 
with  whom  Bert  was  well  acquainted.  He  looked 
squarely  at  Bert,  but  did  not  speak. 

"  Why  did  n't  he  speak  to  me  ?  "  asked  Bert,  simply. 

"I  don't  suppose  he  knowed  you,"  answered  the 
brakeman,  with  a  laugh.  "  Mighty  few  would  in  that  rig. 
That  headpiece  you  're  wearin'  don't  look  just  right  on 
you." 

Bert  languidly  hfted  the  "  headpiece  "  in  question,  and 
found  it  to  be  a  conductor's  old  cap.  He  gazed  at  it 
with  perfect  gravity  for  a  moment,  without  speaking,  and 
then  put  it  on  again. 

The  train  reached  Ashboro  a  few  minutes  after  dusk. 
As  it  rolled  at  reduced  speed  through  the  freight  yard,  a 
dusky  figure  swung  off  the  platform-steps  of  one  of  the 
coaches.  For  a  moment  it  reeled  and  almost  fell.  It  was 
Bert  Darlington.  The  shame  of  getting  off  at  the  station, 
before  a  curious  throng,  was  more  than  he  could  bear. 

He  sat  down  on  a  tie  to  recover  his  strength.  This 
part  of  the  yard  was  sometimes  used  by  the  residents  of 
the  east  side  as  a  short  cut  to  the  stores,  and  a  moment 
later  Bert  saw  a  young  woman  crossing  the  tracks 
toward  him.  It  was  not  until  she  was  within  ten  feet  of 
him  that  he  recognized  Ethel  Dane,  Carol's  dearest  giri 
friend.  He  lowered  his  head  so  that  she  might  not  recog- 
nize  him.  As  the  young  woman  came  up  she  gave  the 
doubled-up  figure  a  half-frightened  glance,  such  as  she 
would  have  given  a  tramp,  gathered  her  skirts  in  her 


Reaping  the  Whirlwind         387 

hand,  as  if  to  escape  contamination,  and  avoided  him 
by  six  or  seven  feet,  although  he  sat  just  on  the  edge  of 
the  path.  But  after  passing  him,  she  slackened  her 
speed,  stopped,  and  turned  and  looked  back.  In  a 
moment  she  approached  him  again. 

"  Are  you  sick,  sir?  "  she  asked,  timidly.  "  Because  if 
you  are,  we  have  rooms  here  that  you  can  go  to." 

For  a  moment  Bert  was  tempted  to  shake  his  head 
and  let  her  go  on  undeceived.  But  it  was  too  degrad- 
ing, and  lifting  his  head,  he  took  off  his  cap.  Even 
then  she  did  not  recognize  him  until  he  said,  sadly, 
''  Don't  you  know  me,  Ethel?" 

For  a  moment  she  stared  at  him  with  a  blanched  face 
and  horrified  eyes.  Then,  bursting  into  tears,  she 
sobbed,  "  Poor  little  Carol !  " 

Bert  watched  her  with  dull,  tired  eyes,  as  though  her 
grief  were  utterly  alien  to  him ;  but  finally  he  said, 
simply  and  sweetly, "  Don't  cry,  Ethel. '^ 

"Are  you  going  home?"  she  asked,  wiping  her 
eyes. 

"Yes,"  he  answered. 

"Then  I'll  go  and  tell  your  father.  He's  at  the 
station.     I  '11  have  him  drive  down  here  for  you." 

It  was  not  more  than  half  an  hour  later  before  little 
knots  of  people  were  gathered  here  and  there  on  the 
main  street.  There  was  one  knot  in  front  of  Tompkins's 
drug-store ;  another  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  leading  up 
to  Dr.  Still's  office  ;  and  another  in  front  of  the  under- 
taking establishment  of  Marmaduke  Hundreth.  There 
was  a  hurried  crossing  of  the  street,  first  this  way  and 
then  that,  without  much  regard  to  the  cross-walks. 
Clerks,   bareheaded  and  in   their  shirt-sleeves,  formed 


388 


The  Darlingtons 


smaller  knots  of  twos  or  threes  in  front  of  their  respec- 
tive places  of  business. 

A  lady  in  a  buggy  drove  up  to  the  curb  near  the  little 
crowd  at  old  man  Hundreth's,  and  instantly  some  one 
hurried  over  to  her  and  imparted  some  startling  intelli- 
gence, for  she  gave  a  sharp  exclamation,  and  dropped 
one  of  her  lines.  A  trio  of  girls  paused  curiously  and 
wistfully  near  the  drug-store,  upon  which  a  young  man 
immediately  detached  himself  from  the  group  and 
stepped  up  to  the  girls,  and  began  a  hurried  recital. 
The  girls'  soft  eyes  grew  round  and  sober.  A  little  later, 
in  the  residence  portions  of  the  town,  women  might 
have  been  seen  in  animated  conversation  over  back- 
yard fences,  or  hastening,  bare-headed^  to  the  next- 
door  neighbor's. 

Herbert  Darlington  had  been  killed  in  the  yards  by  a 
switch  engine. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

AFTERMATH 

There  are  some  human  events  which  burst  upon  a  small 
community  with  cataclysmic  violence  ;  which  for  a  brief 
instant  derange  the  social  machine,  give  pause  to  the 
course  of  trade  and  industry,  and  even  momentarily  dis- 
tract the  votaries  at  the  shrine  of  Mammon.  Such 
an  event  was  Herbert  Darlington's  tragic  death.  The 
prominence  of  his  family,  his  responsible  position  in  the 
railroad,  his  pecuHar  weakness,  and  his  unfailing  kind- 
liness and  amiability,  all  lent  force  to  a  blow  that  would 
have  been  stunning  under  any  circumstances.  On  that 
fatal  night  there  was  perhaps  not  one  home,  high  or  low, 
in  Ashboro,  which  was  not  affected  by  the  sad  event. 
In  many  homes  he  was  sincerely  mourned,  either  as 
friend  or  benefactor ;  in  others,  he  was  pitied ;  and  in 
still  others,  he  was  held  up  as  an  impressive  example  of 
the  vanity  of  life  and  the  destructiveness  of  strong  drink. 
On  the  afternoon  of  his  funeral  the  village  was  wrapped 
in  an  almost  Sunday  quietude.  Most  of  the  stores  were 
closed  for  an  hour  or  two,  at  least.  The  railroad  shops 
were  shut  down  for  the  day ;  the  general  offices  were 
closed  from  morning  till  night,  with  the  exception  of  the 
train-despatcher's  office,  where  it  was  necessary  to  retain 
a  few  telegraph  operators.  A  special  train  was  run  the 
length  of  the  road  to  give  such  of  the  employes  as  wanted 


390 


The  Darlingtons 


to  do  so  an  opportunity  to  attend  the  funeral,  and  the 
coaches  came  into  Ashboro  loaded  to  the  platforms.  The 
Episcopal  Church  could  not  hold  a  quarter  of  the  crowd 
which  gathered  there.  The  I7itellige7icer  of  the  following 
week  is  authority  for  the  statement  that  the  funeral  train 
was  nearly  twice  the  largest  in  the  history  of  Ashboro. 

Resolutions  of  regret  and  sympathy  were  passed  by 
Bert's  club,  and  by  the  Business  Men's  Club,  and  by  the 
Ladies'  Union  Aid  Society,  of  which  Mrs.  Darlington 
was  a  member.  Several  social  events  set  for  the  week 
following  Bert's  death  were  postponed,  —  even  a  dance 
which  was  to  have  been  given  by  a  benefit  association 
with  which  Bert  had  had  no  affiliation  whatever,  and 
with  few  of  whose  members  he  had  had  even  the  slightest 
acquaintance. 

Public  sentiment  at  first  flamed  so  high  against  the 
traffickers  in  liquor  that  it  was  hardly  safe  for  one  of 
them  to  be  seen  outside  of  his  place  of  business ;  an 
incendiary  attempt  was  made  against  one  of  the  most 
pestiferous  grog-shops ;  and  the  temperance  party  con- 
fidently predicted  the  annihilation  of  the  license  party  at 
the  next  local  election.  But  waves  of  sentiment,  like 
waves  of  water,  seek  a  level  as  soon  as  the  disturbing 
force  is  removed.  At  the  polls,  only  four  months  later, 
the  prohibition  party  showed  no  marked  gains ;  and  all 
the  liquor  licenses  were  renewed  the  following  spring 
by  the  Common  Council. 

It  is  undeniable  that  if  a  man  of  only  mediocre  ability, 
or  less,  will  but  enslave  himself  to  drink,  he  will  find  many 
ready  to  proclaim  him  a  wasted  genius.  Many  who  pro- 
fessed to  see  in  Herbert  Darlington  the  superior  of  his 
father  in  business  sagacity,  predicted  that  it  would  be  a 
long  time  before  the  traffic  department  of  the  H.  P.,  R., 


Aftermath  391 

A.,  and  S.  recovered  from  the  loss  of  its  official  head.  Yet 
affairs  in  that  department  seemed  to  go  on  about  as  be- 
fore, and  the  former  chief  clerk  —  a  young  man  in 
whom  nobody,  with  the  possible  exception  of  Charles 
Darlington,  had  discovered  any  special  abihty  before  — 
seemed  to  fill  Bert's  place  very  satisfactorily. 

In  still  another  matter  did  excited  public  opinion  go 
astray.  Elsie  Clifford,  who  was  frequently  spoken  of  as 
a  bundle  of  nerves,  was  confidently  expected  to  be  pros- 
trated by  Herbert  Darlington's  sudden  death.  Many 
believed  that  her  reason  would  be  affected,  —  she  was 
always  so  quick  and  impulsive,  —  and  a  few  quietly  ex- 
pressed the  opinion  that  she  would  not  long  survive  her 
affianced.  Yet,  when  she  was  first  seen  down-town 
again,  a  week  after  Bert's  death,  she  betrayed  no  evi- 
dence of  a  dissolution  of  either  mind  or  body.  She  was 
a  little  pale,  to  be  sure,  and  unusually  grave  ;  but  when 
she  bent  over  young  Mrs.  Wickwire's  baby-carriage,  and 
kissed  the  little  inmate,  she  smiled  brightly,  and  seemed 
happy.  Mrs.  Wickwire  told  afterward  that  there  were 
tears  in  Elsie's  eyes.     Very  probably  there  were,  too. 

Death  is  not  the  crudest  thing  in  the  world.  It 
atones  for  many  sins  ;  and  though  the  dead  may  soon  be 
half-forgotten  by  all  but  a  few,  it  is  by  foes  as  well  as  by 
friends.  The  grave  is  a  sanctuary  in  which  all  but  the 
foulest  may  find  a  refuge.  The  saloons  still  ran,  the 
traffic  department  moved  along  without  a  jolt,  Elsie 
CHfford  found  a  solace  for  her  grief;  but  Herbert  Dar- 
lington by  no  means  died  in  vain.  After  he  had  been 
laid  away,  few  thought  of  him  except  in  connection  with 
his  virtues,  —  his  love  for  his  sisters  and  mother,  his 
gentle  amiability,  his  unassailable  integrity,  and  his  win- 
ning lack  of  self-consciousness.     Even  his  one  great, 


392  The  Darlingtons 

notorious  weakness  was  consigned  by  most  people  to 
that  limbo  of  things  better  forgotten ;  and  now  that  the 
poor  body  which  had  been  the  helpless  instrument  of 
that  ungovernable  passion  was  so  still  and  cold,  people 
were  prone  to  soften  and  smooth  over  in  their  minds  the 
ravages  which  that  passion  had  wrought.  Many  who  had 
looked  upon  his  sprees  —  if  they  may  be  so  called  — 
as  mere  indulgences,  now  came  over  to  the  more 
charitable  and  juster  view  that  he  was  a  victim  of 
heredity. 

Herbert's  death  was  a  blow  to  his  mother  from  which 
she  never  fully  recovered.  To  take  a  child  from  a 
woman  of  her  age  is  to  lop  a  great  branch  from  a  full- 
grown  tree.  Nature  refuses  to  replace  the  loss.  Yet  the 
rest  of  the  tree  vnW  leaf  and  blossom  as  before,  and 
sometimes  with  even  greater  vigor.  Mrs.  Darlington, 
though  stunned,  accepted  her  trial  with  Christian  forti- 
tude. Of  all  the  children,  Bert  had  been  the  nearest  to 
her  in  disposition,  as  Carol  was  the  nearest  to  her  father. 
She  had  sometimes  fancied  that  if  Carol  had  been  a  boy 
and  Bert  a  girl,  the  family  would  have  been  better  bal- 
anced. But  it  was  only  a  passing  fancy,  and  she  would 
not  have  had  them  changed  if  she  could ;  for  Herbert 
was  gentle  without  being  effeminate,  and  Carol  was  dar- 
ing and  courageous  without  being  masculine.  The 
mother  was  equally  proud  of  the  son's  gentleness  and 
the  daughter's  sturdiness. 

After  Bert  was  gone,  after  Mrs.  Darlington  had  accepted 
the  inevitable  and  had  begun  to  adjust  herself  to  the 
changed  conditions,  she  told  herself  that  she  would 
sooner  have  him  dead  than  a  confirmed  drunkard. 
Sometimes  she  told  the  family  this,  as  they  sat  around  in 
a  little  group,  so  woefully  reduced  by  the  absence  of  only 


Aftermath  393 

one.  Darlington  always  silently  acquiesced  in  this  senti- 
ment ;  but  it  was  some  time  before  Carol  could  listen  to 
it  without  an  aching  throat  and  a  hardened  heart,  and  a 
desire  to  exclaim  bitterly  that  there  was  no  need  for  her 
brother  to  be  either  dead  or  a  drunkard. 

A  son  is  perhaps  more  than  a  brother,  but  Carol  was 
shaken  more  by  Herbert's  death  than  her  mother  was. 
Mrs.  Darlington  accepted  the  inevitable  ;  Carol  rebelled 
against  it.  She  wanted  to  argue  it  out  with  God  —  as 
though  it  were  not  yet  too  late.  Yet  she  said  nothing  in 
the  family  circle.  Her  father  was  the  only  one  there  to 
whom  she  could  have  thus  talked,  and  she  had  it  not  in 
her  heart  to  add  anything  to  his  dumb  grief. 

The  scales  had  fallen  in  part  from  his  eyes.  A  man 
may  no  more  change  his  nature  than  a  leopard  may 
change  his  spots  ;  and  Charles  Darlington  was  the  same 
man,  yet  under  new  conditions.  His  son's  death  pro- 
duced permanently  the  same  change  in  his  relations  with 
his  wife  that  Bert's  falls  used  to  produce  temporarily. 
The  father  pitied  the  mother.  His  grief  was  largely 
sympathy  with  her.  A  change  took  place  in  his  atti- 
tude toward  her.  To  be  sure,  he  read  the  papers  at 
night  as  usual,  and  smoked  the  same  number  of  cigars, 
and  talked  almost  as  little  as  before  with  Mrs.  Darling- 
ton, —  which  was  little  enough.  But  for  months  after 
their  common  bereavement,  he  would  occasionally  lower 
his  paper  in  a  stealthy  way,  and  study  the  subdued, 
patient  face  across  the  table  from  him,  —  the  wife  of  his 
young  manhood. 

Somehow  that  young  manhood  did  not  seem  so  far 
away  now  as  it  once  had.  He  could  remember  just  how 
Winifred  had  looked  the  night  Bert  was  born,  and  it  had 
seemed  to  him  then,  even  in  the  hour  of  his  joy  over  her 


394  The  Darlingtons 

safety,  that  God  had  placed  an  awful  burden  on  frail 
shoulders.  It  seemed  so  to  him  yet,  in  these  moments 
of  revery ;  and  the  figure  across  the  table  also  seemed 
yet  the  simple,  delicately  nurtured  girl  who  had  smiled  so 
wanly  up  at  him  from  her  pillow  of  pain,  twenty-six  years 
before.  Very  often,  at  this  point  in  his  revery,  his  tears 
would  blur  the  letters  on  the  page  before  him. 

Yet,  like  many  another  man,  —  more  's  the  pity,  —  he 
was  almost  awkward  in  the  expression  of  this  feeling. 
Had  he  knelt  beside  his  wife,  and  poured  out  his  love 
and  sympathy  and  reverence  for  her  with  boyish  impetu- 
osity, he  knew  that  it  would  have  been  balm  to  her  heart, 
and  that  she  would  never  have  doubted  his  sincerity,  or 
thought  such  demonstration  unmanly.  But  he  could  not 
do  it,  any  more  than  he  could  have  flown,  though  he 
despised  the  pride  or  sensitiveness  or  coldness  or  what- 
ever it  was  which  kept  him  from  doing  it.  Instead,  he 
would  pave  the  way  for  his  affectionate  demonstrations 
with  some  commonplace  remark  ;  or,  when  he  happened 
to  pass  behind  Mrs.  Darhngton's  chair,  —  sometimes  by 
design,  —  he  would  pause  and  pat  her  cheek  and  ask  her 
what  she  was  reading.  When  she  had  taken  his  hands 
in  her  own,  —  as  she  never  failed  to.  do,  —  and  had 
pressed  them  to  her  cheek,  and  he  had  bent  and  kissed 
her  lips,  —  almost  as  full  and  red  as  in  her  bridal  days, 
—  he  would  feel  a  lightness  of  heart  that  was  almost 
giddiness. 

Sometimes,  as  he  brooded  in  the  office,  it  seemed  to 
him  that  he  had  starved  his  wife's  heart  all  the  days  of 
their  wedded  life.  He  knew  that  he  was  not  a  demon- 
strative man,  and  he  sometimes  doubted  that  he  was 
even  affectionate.  He  knew  —  at  least  believed  —  that 
other  men  gave  more  of  their  hearts  to  their  wives  than 


Aftermath  395 

he  had  given  to  his  wife.  This  remorse  was  softened, 
though,  by  the  thought  that  he  had  never  been  intention- 
ally unkind  to  her ;  that  he  had  given  her  few  sharp 
words,  and  that  he  had  provided  well  for  her  with  this 
world's  goods.  He  was  glad  to  think,  too,  that  her 
children  had  been  a  joy  to  her,  on  the  whole,  and  that 
her  affections  had  found  an  ample  outlet  in  them,  if  not 
in  him. 

But  in  spite  of  these  consoling  thoughts,  there  were 
hours  when  he  felt  like  leaving  the  office,  and  going  home 
and  taking  Winifred  in  his  arms,  and  telling  her  how 
much  he  loved  her,  and  how  much  he  regretted  his 
coldness  in  the  past.  These  moods  did  not  come 
every  day,  or  every  week,  and  he  never  followed  out 
these  impulses ;  but  the  change  of  which  they  were  a 
manifestation  made  itself  felt  in  the  home  every  day  and 
every  hour  of  every  day.  Thus,  again,  Bert  had  not 
died  in  vain. 

Carol,  though,  hardened  her  heart  for  a  while.  When 
Kaltenborn  called  at  the  house  the  day  after  the  funeral, 
he  found  her  pale  and  serious.  He  took  both  her  hands 
in  his,  and  for  a  moment  they  looked  into  each  other's 
eyes  —  he  as  if  he  would  search  out  all  the  pain  and 
trouble  in  the  breast  below,  she  as  if  she  would  tell  him 
all  the  pain  and  trouble  there.  Then  he  pressed  her  to 
his  bosom,  and  laying  his  cheek  tenderly  upon  her  pale 
hair,  he  murmured,  "  Tell  me  all  about  it,  love  !  " 

She  began  to  sob,  for  almost  the  first  time  since 
receiving  the  terrible  news,  which  had  struck  her  into  a 
kind  of  stupor.  When  she  had  composed  herself  some- 
what, she  said,  tremulously,  — 

"  I  don't  blame  God  —  now.  I  am  not  unjust  enough 
to  think  that  God  would  strike  that  poor  boy  down  simply 


396  The  Darlingtons 

to  punish  him  for  drinking,  when  he  was  no  more  respon- 
sible for  it  than  you  or  I.  And  if  he  was  to  keep  on 
drinking,  I  —  I  don't  know  but  that  it  was  a  mercy  for 
him  to  be  taken  away.  I  have  got  that  far,"  she  con- 
tinued, with  a  httle  affectionate  smile.  "  And  if  he  had 
to  die  that  the  terrible  appetite  might  die  too,  I  can  see 
where  it  was  just.  If  he  died  for  that,  because  of  God's 
law,  I  cannot  complain,  for  I  do  not  expect  God  to  annul 
his  laws  for  me  or  my  loved  ones.  But — "  She  gave 
way  to  her  grief  again,  and  exclaimed,  with  an  uncontrol- 
lable sob,  as  she  laid  her  head  back  again  on  his  breast, 
"  Oh,  Stephen,  something  terrible  was  wrong  somewhere. 
He  was  so  young  and  innocent !  '^ 

"  Something  was  wrong,  Carol,"  answered  Kaltenborn. 
"  In  this  case  the  wrong  began  with  Bert's  grandfather, 
or  possibly  still  further  back.*'  He  paused  to  arrange 
his  thoughts,  when  she  asked,  rebelliously,  — 

"  Do  you  see  any  m-crcy  in  that,  —  to  punish  him  for 
the  sins  of  another  ?  " 

"  God  is  not  merciful  in  the  sense  we  use  the  word," 
he  said.  "  His  penalties  are  as  immutable  as  his  laws. 
He  does  not  pardon  sins.  No  man  was  ever  yet  par- 
doned for  breaking  one  of  God's  laws,  and  no  man  ever 
will  be.  We  human  beings  occasionally  pardon  the 
violators  of  human  law.  But  that  is  only  because  we 
know  those  laws  are  not  perfect,  and  guilt  is  not  always 
established  beyond  doubt.  God's  laws  are  not  only 
perfect,  but  beneficent ;  through  obedience  to  them  man 
is  destined  to  reach  his  highest  glory,  and  only  through 
obedience.  Why,  then,  should  he  be  pardoned  for  dis- 
obedience ?  Would  not  the  very  act  of  pardoning  be 
unjust?  Would  it  not  leave  the  violator  headed  the 
wrong  way,  — in  the  wrong  path?" 


Aftermath  397 

"What  do  people  mean,  then,  when  they  speak  of 
God's  mercy?"  she  asked,  in  a  calmer  tone. 

"Usually  something  they  know  nothing  about,  and 
which  does  not  exist.  Mercy  was  first  attributed  to  God 
because  men  first  attributed  a  wrath  to  him  which  he 
does  not  possess.  As  I  just  said,  God's  mercy,  to  my 
mind,  lies  in  the  very  fact  that  he  never  pardons.  For 
if  the  operation  of  his  law,  —  and  the  law  includes  the 
penalty  —  is  beneficent,  any  pardoning,  —  that  is,  any 
annulling  of  the  law,  —  would  be  a  diminution  of  that 
beneficence.  Is  that  not  clear?  Your  brother  is  dead. 
Though  killed  by  a  locomotive,  he  died  in  all  probability 
because  of  an  appetite  which  he  inherited.  Suppose 
God  had  pardoned  the  breaking  of  the  law  in  this  case ; 
that  is,  had  taken  away  the  weakness  and  bewilderment 
which  betrayed  Bert  to  his  death ;  in  short,  had  let  Bert 
live.  That  would  have  been  simply  a  multiplication  of 
miseries.  Bert  would  probably  have  married.  What  he 
inherited  he  would  probably  have  transmitted  to  his 
children.  Suppose  he  had  had  two  sons,  both  drunkards, 
and  four  grandsons,  and  so  on  and  on,  until  a  strain  of 
drunkards  was  abroad  in  the  land.  That  is  not  a  fanci- 
ful picture.  The  thing  has  happened,  not  only  in  the 
case  of  drunkards  but  in  that  of  criminals.  I  can 
point  you  to  a  case  where  a  single  pair  of  criminals  have 
infested  one  of  our  States  with  their  offspring  to  the 
number  of  a  thousand  or  more." 

"  Why  did  God  let  f/iaf  happen  ?  "  she  asked. 

Her  acuteness  thrilled  him  with  pride,  and  he  pressed 
her  a  little  closer.  "  There  are  cases  of  apparent  escape 
from  the  penalties  of  broken  law,  I  will  admit,"  he 
answered,  thoughtfully.  "  But  it  is  only  apparent.  The 
penalty  is  simply  different.    It  must  be  paid  in  the  end." 


398  The  Darlingtons 

"  And  often  by  innocent  people,"  she  said,  bitterly. 
"  Why  did  n't  God  take  away  my  grandfather?  He  was 
the  sinner." 

"  Perhaps  he  had  work  for  your  grandfather.  Perhaps 
he  was  looking  ahead  to  you,  and  he  could  not  have  had 
you  without  your  grandfather." 

''  I  don't  know  what  he  wanted  me  for,"  she  murmured. 

"  You  may  be  sure  it  was  for  something,"  he  answered, 
earnestly.  "  Maybe  it  was  to  soothe  and  cheer  me 
through  Hfe,  and  make  me  stronger  and  better,  and  more 
able  to  do  the  work  I  have  set  out  to  do,"  he  added, 
softly. 

The  eyes  which  looked  up  into  his  lit  with  a  wonder- 
ful radiance,  and  then  as  quickly  filled  with  tears.  "  I 
am  not  worthy,  Stephen  ! "  she  whispered. 

"  I  think  you  are,"  he  answered,  gravely.  "  And  you 
have  confidence  in  my  judgment,  have  n't  you  ?  " 

She  answered  by  pressing  closer. 

"  If  you  are  weak  yet  in  any  respect,"  he  continued, 
"  it  is  only  because  you  have  not  yet  come  into  your  full 
strength.  I  want  you  to  be  a  great  woman.  I  expect 
you  to  be.  Not  one  whose  name  is  in  the  mouth  of  the 
people,  but  one  whose  greatness  is  known  to  herself 
and  to  those  she  loves.  I  want  you  to  fulfil  your 
destiny." 

"  Poor  little  Bert  fulfilled  his ! "  she  exclaimed,  with 
quivering,  smarting  nostrils.  She  added,  quickly,  "  Oh, 
Stephen,  if  you  only  knew  how  hard  and  wicked  I  felt 
when  I  stood  beside  his  casket,  and  everybody  thought 
my  heart  was  melting  with  tenderness  !  He  looked  so 
sweet,  as  though  he  were  asleep ;  and  his  face  was  so 
bruised  where  they  —  where  they  had  struck  him  that 
I  — "      She  paused  an  instant.      "  Stephen,  I  said  I 


Aftermath  399 

should  n't  care  if  every  girl's  brother  in  the  world  were 
dead." 

"  But  you  would  have  cared,"  he  said,  gently. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  murmured,  with  a  shudder,  "  because 
when  I  saw  a  little  dead  bird  in  the  cemetery,  my  heart 
ached  for  its  mother." 

"  That  heart-ache  is  one  of  the  treasures  laid  up  to 
our  dead  brother's  memory,"  said  Kaltenborn,  sweetly. 
"  Let  there  be  more.     Let  him  not  have  died  in  vain." 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

THE   PATERNAL   HEART 

Something  like  three  weeks  after  Herbert's  funeral, 
Stephen  Kaltenborn  ascended  the  stairs  of  the  railroad's 
general  offices  ;  but  instead  of  going  into  Carol's  room, 
as  was  his  wont,  he  turned  and  went  into  the  president's 
office.  He  preferred  a  request  to  that  official  to  which 
the  latter  listened  very  quietly,  but  with  possibly  the 
least  uneasiness.  He  was  tilted  back  in  his  swivel-chair, 
and  he  did  not  look  Kaltenborn  in  the  face,  but  kept  his 
eyes  upon  his  desk,  and  chewed  a  little  on  his  cigar. 
When  Kaltenborn  was  done,  the  president  was  silent  for 
perhaps  half  a  minute,  bis  brown  eyes  dancing  in  a  way 
that  betrayed  his  emotion. 

"  I  don't  hesitate  to  say,  Mr.  Kaltenborn,  that  this  is 
something  of  a  surprise  to  me,"  he  answered,  candidly; 
"  and  yet  I  have  often  thought  that  it  might  come  to 
pass.  You  have  been  very  frank  with  me,  and  I  will  be 
equally  so  with  you.  I  hoped  that  it  would  not  come  to 
pass.  I  believe  you  will  make  Carol  a  good  husband, 
and,  other  things  being  equal,  I  don't  know  of  any  man 
in  the  world  that  I  'd  sooner  trust  her  to.  All  that  I  am 
afraid  of  is  that  it  may  be  too  great  a  change  for  her, 
and  that  she  may  be  unhappy  on  that  account." 

He  paused,  and  for  a  moment  stared  hard  out  of  the 
window.     If  Kaltenborn  had  ever  entertained  any  doubts 


The  Paternal  Heart  401 

of  Charles  Darlington's  tenderness  for  his  daughter,  they 
were  swept  away  in  that  moment. 

"  But  if  you  have  spoken  to  Carol,  and  she  has  given 
her  consent  I  have  n't  a  word  to  say.  Carol  has  practi- 
cally been  her  own  master  since  she  was  eighteen  years 
old,  and  I  don't  know  that  I  have  ever  had  to  overrule 
her.  I  certainly  won't  begin  now.  If  she  loves  you,  you 
are  the  man  we  want  her  to  marry.  And  if  she  has 
promised  to  marry  you,  she  knows  what  she  is  doing.  I 
say  that  to  remove  any  doubts  you  yourself  may  have  as 
to  the  wisdom  of  this  step.  There  was  a  time  when  I 
thought  Carol  would  never  marry ;  and  though  I  should 
have  urged  her  to  do  so,  I  guess  we  should  never  have 
picked  out  a  preacher  for  her."  His  eyes  lit  with  a 
gentle  pleasantry.  "  But  she  has  changed  a  good  deal 
in  the  past  year.  I  don't  know  but  you  have  changed 
her.  Anyway,  I  guess  it 's  for  the  best.  Her  mother 
is  pretty  sure  that  it  is.  You  are  getting  a  wife,  Mr. 
Kaltenborn,  that  you  can  be  proud  of  anywhere.  If 
she  should  not  happen  to  take  to  the  new  work  right  in  the 
beginning,  all  I  ask  of  you  is  to  remember  that  it  is  new. 
She  '11  adapt  herself  to  it  in  time,  because  she  is  a  girl 
who  can  adapt  herself  to  anything.  I  congratulate  you, 
sir,  on  the  woman  you  are  getting."  He  extended  his 
shapely  white  hand  with  the  courtly  manner  which  sat 
upon  him  so  naturally. 

They  talked  for  nearly  an  hour.  Darlington  finally 
asked  Kaltenborn  if  he  expected  to  move  in  the  fall. 
Kaltenborn  noticed  that  he  approached  the  question 
with  some  hesitancy.  He  answered  that  he  did  not 
know,  but  rather  thought  he  would. 

"  If  you  do,  is  it  your  and  Carol's  idea  to  get  married 
first  ?  "  asked  the  president,  with  a  slight  huskiness. 

26 


402  The  Darlingtons 

"  It  was,"  answered  Kaltenborn,  *'  but  Herbert's  death 
has  changed  the  situation." 

"  Don't  let  it,"  said  Darlington,  earnestly.  "  Much 
as  I  hate  to  see  the  child  go,  it 's  her  duty  to  be  with 
you.  Don't  let  public  sentiment  dictate  in  a  matter  of 
this  kind.  If  you  and  Carol  feel  that  you  ought  to 
marry  before  you  go  —  and  I  think  you  ought  —  I  want 
you  to  do  it.  This  thing  of  considering  a  marriage  as  a 
festivity  which  jars  upon  the  memory  of  the  dead,  is  gro- 
tesque and  abominable.  Marriage  is  the  sacredest  and 
solemnest  act  of  a  man's  life,  and  the  ceremony  might 
be  performed  in  the  chamber  of  the  dead  without  incon- 
gruity. If  you  want  to  marry  before  you  go,  Mr.  Kal- 
tenborn, if  you  and  Carol  feel  as  though  you  ought  to, 
—  I  want  you  to  do  it." 

After  the  minister  had  gone,  the  president  sat  almost 
motionless  in  his  chair  for  a  long  time.  Then  he  turned 
to  his  desk  and  tried  to  work ;  but  it  was  impossible. 
After  tramping  up  and  down  his  room  for  several  min- 
utes, with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  he  strolled  abstract- 
edly into  the  traffic-manager's  office.  The  former  chief 
clerk  looked  up  inquiringly.  Darlington  gave  a  shght 
start,  murmured  something  unintelligible,  and  hastily 
turned  away. 

As  he  re-entered  his  own  room,  his  eye  was  caught  by 
a  fancy  calendar  illustrated  with  a  picture  of  Miles 
Standish's  courtship.  For  six  months  and  more  he  had 
consulted  the  dates  on  that  calendar  without  especially 
noticing  the  picture  ;  but  to-day  he  stood  before  it  a 
long  time,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  studying 
Priscilla's  face.  It  was  very  strange,  he  thought,  that 
the  hushed  joy,  the  sweet  humility,  which  illuminated 
those  delicate  features  had  never  impressed  him  before. 


The  Paternal  Heart  403 

He  had  read  the  poem,  he  supposed,  in  his  younger 
days,  but  it  had  all  but  slipped  away  from  him.  He  won- 
dered now,  whimsically,  if  Miles  Standish  ever  did  any 
preaching.  Most  all  those  old  fellows  either  did  preach 
or  could  preach,  as  he  remembered  his  history.  He 
wondered,  too,  if  Standish  had  been  poor.  He  thought 
perhaps  he  had,  and  he  suddenly  leaned  forward  and 
kissed  the  face  of  a  girl  who  was  not  afraid  to  marry  a 
poor  man. 

He  recovered  himself  with  a  kind  of  guilty  start,  as 
though  his  act  was  too  sentimental  for  a  man.  Carol 
had  given  him  that  calendar,  and  had  hung  it  with  her 
own  hands.  That  was  only  seven  months  or  less  before, 
but  for  some  reason  it  seemed  in  the  remote  past  — 
away  back  in  Carol's  girlhood  days.  She  had  laughed  and 
said,  —  he  remembered  it  so  plainly,  —  "  Papa,  here 's 
a  new  sweetheart  for  you  ;  only,  another  fellow  has  spoken 
first !  "  And  now  another  ''  fellow  "  had  spoken  for  her  ! 
He  felt,  momentarily,  that  he  was  going  to  lose  her 
almost  as  hopelessly  as  he  had  lost  his  son ;  and  at  the 
thought  of  Kaltenborn's  probable  early  departure  from 
Ashboro,  tears  filled  his  eyes.  He  let  them  stand  until 
they  had  melted  away,  and  then  he  walked  down  the 
hall  to  Carol's  room. 

He  whistled  a  little  as  he  entered  the  door,  for  he 
suspected  that  he  was  looking  unduly  solemn.  He 
strolled  around  the  room,  talking  at  random,  and  aim- 
lessly working  in  and  out  the  drawers  of  the  file-case. 
He  looked  at  Carol  to  see  if  any  marked  change  had 
come  over  her.  He  thought  it  must  have  been  so,  but 
he  could  see  no  change.  She  looked  as  innocent  and 
unsuspecting  as  a  dove ;  hot  as  it  was.  there  was  a 
refreshing  airiness  and  placidity  about  her ;  her  eye  was 


404  The  Darlingtons 

clear  and  tranquil,  and  her  cheek  as  white  and  cool  as 
though  it  had  never  flushed  under  a  lover's  kiss.  The 
sleeves  of  her  shirt-waist  were  pushed  half-way  up  her 
forearm  for  the  sake  of  comfort  as  she  wrote  ;  and  some- 
how this  arrangement  gave  her  a  domestic  appearance, 
as  though  she  were  forestalling  her  future  state. 

"  Carol,  Kaltenborn  was  just  in  to  see  me,"  said 
Darlington,  abruptly  turning  upon  her.  Her  cool,  white 
cheek  did  not  turn,  and  she  asked  tranquilly,  — 

*'What  did /^^  want?" 

"  He  wanted  you,"  he  answered. 

She  flushed  a  little  now,  but  without  dropping  her 
eyes  she  asked,  soberly,  "What  did  you  tell  him, 
papa?  " 

'^  I  saw  at  once  that  it  was  a  cut-and-dried  affair,  so  I 
didn't  commit  myself,"  he  answered,  with  a  twinkle. 

Carol  dropped  her  eyes  with  a  thoughtful,  musing 
smile,  understanding  her  father  well  enough.  After  a 
little  she  said,  with  a  happy,  arch  glance,  "  You  have  n't 
congratulated  me  yet." 

"  I  congratulated  him,"  he  retorted. 

"And  you  won't  me?"  she  said,  putting  on  a  little 
injured  look. 

He  came  over  to  her  side,  took  her  hand,  and  bent 
over  and  laid  his  lips  to  hers.  When  he  lifted  his  head 
there  was  an  added  brightness  in  Carol's  eyes. 

"  Papa,  dear  ! "  she  exclaimed,  clinging  to  his  hand, 
"are  you  very,  very  disappointed?  " 

Darlington  sat  down  and  crossed  his  legs.  "  It 
would  n't  be  honest,  Carol,  for  me  to  say  that  I  am  en- 
tirely satisfied.  I  had  hoped  for  a  different  life  for  you. 
I  don't  know  just  what,  but  something  different.  But  I 
suppose  I  should  have  been  disappointed  —  a  little  — 


The  Paternal  Heart  405 

no  matter  whom  you  married.  I  know  there  is  no 
young  man  in  this  town  that  I  should  care  to  see  you 
marry,  leaving  Kaltenborn  out  of  the  count.  But  with 
your  education  and  talents,  I  looked  for  a  different  career 
for  you  than  that  of  a  minister's  wife.  Perhaps  I  was 
wrong.  Perhaps  I  was  too  ambitious,  and  might  have 
made  you  unhappy  if  I  had  had  my  own  way.  And  per- 
haps I  don't  do  justice  to  the  career  you  have  chosen.  I 
don't  know  much  about  the  duties  of  a  minister's  wife, 
that's  a  fact.  But  it  is  going  to  be  hard  for  you, 
daughter,"  he  continued,  with  a  father's  solicitude,  '•  and 
you  will  often  have  to  exercise  all  the  heroism  you 
possess.  You  will  have  to  give  up  a  great  deal  that 
you  won't  see  any  reason  for  giving  up  —  that  there  is 
no  reason  for  giving  up,  except  that  one  man's  meat  is 
another  man's  poison.  But  there  is  one  thing  I  want 
to  say  to  you,  now  that  the  decision  is  made.  Poverty 
need  have  no  terrors  for  you,  thank  God,  for  you  will 
never  suffer  for  this  world's  goods  as  long  as  I  have  a 
dollar  in  my  pocket." 

She  squeezed  his  hand  affectionately.  "I  have 
thought  it  all  over  so  many  times,  papa,"  she  exclaimed, 
with  hushed  joy.  "  I  am  not  afraid.  I  know  I  shall  be 
happy.  I  am  not  giving  it  all  up  for  him,  either.  Do 
you  know,  I  had  almost  made  up  my  mind  that  I  could 
be  a  minister's  wife,  before  I  had  made  it  up  that  I 
could  be  —  Stephen's  wife  !  My  life  has  been  so 
thoughtless  and  aimless  that  I  felt  almost  as  though  I 
had  to  strike  out  and  do  something  for  somebody." 

"I  don't  think  your  life  has  been  aimless,"  he 
demurred. 

"Coming  down  here  and  working  seven  or  eight  hours 
a  day,  papa,  —  what  does  it  all  amount  to?  "  she  asked, 


4o6  The  Darlingtons 

softly.  "  I  used  to  thmk  it  was  something  great ;  but, 
papa,  dear,  I  couldn't  any  more  think  now  of  doing 
that  all  my  life  than  — "  She  paused  for  a  simile  not 
too  harsh. 

"You  never  thought  of  doing  it  all  your  life,"  he 
objected. 

"  No,  but  I  did  n't  know  what  else  I  could  do.  I  did  n't 
have  any  plans.  I  did  n't  realize  how  much  I  could  do 
—  and  be  —  if  I  only  made  up  my  mind  to.  I  did  n't 
realize  how  much  there  is  to  be  done." 

"What,  for  instance?"  he  asked. 

For  a  moment  he  felt  sick  at  heart.  A  great  lone- 
liness closed  down  over  him,  for  his  chosen  disciple, 
his  own  flesh  and  blood,  seemed  to  be  rending  his 
choicest  doctrines  into  shreds,  and  making  ready  to 
abandon  him  for  another. 

"Just  little  things  that  don't  seem  to  amount  to 
much,  but  which  really  make  up  life  and  the  happiness 
of  people.  I  can't  name  them  over,  you  dear  old  doubt- 
ing Thomas  ! "  she  exclaimed,  taking  his  hand  in  hers. 
Then,  as  if  reading  his  bitter  thoughts,  she  ran  on,  "  You 
are  doing  good  right  here  in  the  railroad,  by  being  honest 
and  charitable  and  intelhgent.  You  haven't  wasted 
your  life.  I  don't  mean  that.  I  owe  all  that  I  am  to 
you  —  to  you  and  mamma  —  and  I  have  done  good  here, 
too.  But  you  are  a  man,  papa,  and  I  am  a  woman,  and 
the  time  has  come  for  me  to  change  and  go  where  I 
can  do  even  more  good." 

Darlington  was  a  little  sceptical  of  the  amount  of  good 
she  was  going  to  do,  but  he  was  beginning  to  feel  less 
anxious  about  her  happiness.  As  a  consequence,  he 
gave  Mrs.  Darlington  the  news  that  evening  with  a 
judicial  fairness.     She  received  his  communication  with 


The  Paternal  Heart  407 

a  complacency  that  surprised  him,  and  nettled  him  a 
little.  As  a  railroad  man  he  had  never  made  a  conces- 
sion in  his  life  without  putting  all  the  opposing  facts  on 
record ;  not  out  of  pettishness,  but  simply  that  the  co?i- 
cessioniiaire  might  not  fail  to  realize  the  full  value  of 
the  concession.  Their  consenting  to  Carol's  marriage 
with  a  minister  was  in  the  nature  of  a  concession,  he 
felt,  and  he  thought  that  his  wife  swung  over  too  easily. 
He  said  nothing,  though,  and  excused  her  on  the  ground 
that  she  was  a  woman,  and  a  deeply  religious  woman, 
and  that  Kaltenborn  was  a  man  set  apart  to  the  offices  of 
religion. 

"  It  makes  me  heartsick  to  think  of  her  going,  though," 
Mrs.  Darlington  sighed.  "  Since  Bert  was  taken  away 
she  seems  to  have  been  so  different,  and  to  have  tried 
to  take  his  place.  The  family  seems  so  dreadfully 
small  now.  I  don't  know  what  it  will  be  like  when  she 
is  gone.  But  we  can  see  her  often,  and  I  don't  know 
of  a  man  I  would  sooner  give  her  to.  I  believe  he  ^11 
make  her  happy,  and  they  are  both  old  enough  to  know 
their  own  minds.  I  feel,  too,  that  if  Bert  were  here,  he 
would  approve  of  it.  He  thought  so  much  of  Mr.  Kal- 
tenborn, especially  after  —  "  She  could  not  finish  the 
sentence,  and  added,  in  a  moment,  "  I  suppose  they 
will  always  be  what  you  might  call  poor." 

"Not  while  I've  got  a  dollar,"  said  Darlington, 
briskly. 

Whatever  doubts  Mrs.  Darlington  may  have  had  of 
Kaltenborn's  enthusiastically  accepting  this  method  of 
eking  out  his  salary,  she  prudently  said  nothing  just 
then.  She  merely  answered,  "  It  seems  a  pity  for  him 
to  have  to  struggle  along  when  his  father  has  so  much 
more  than  he  needs." 


4o8  The  Darlingtons 

"  I  am  going  to  put  a  bug  in  his  ear  about  that,"  said 
the  president,  in  his  most  business-Hke  tone.  "  There  is 
no  sense  in  his  being  cut  off  without  a  nickel.  Kalten- 
born  can  be  stubborn  when  he  wants  to,  and  I  have  an 
idea  it 's  half  his  own  fault  —  this  trouble  between  him 
and  his  father.  If  I  had  a  boy  that  wanted  to 
preach,  don't  you  suppose  I  'd  let  him,  without  turning 
him  out  to  grass  ?  " 

"  All  fathers  are  not  like  you,  Charles,"  she  answered, 
with  a  simple,  unconscious  pride  that  pleased  Darlington. 

*'  I  suppose  Kaltenborn's  father  is  a  ram-headed  old 
Dutchman,"  observed  DarKngton,  "  but  I  '11  wager  any 
money  that  the  difference  between  them  can  be  patched 
up  —  and  I  '11  quietly  make  it  my  business  to  see  that  it  is. 
From  what  Kaltenborn  tells  me,  his  father  has  been  after 
him  to  let  bygones  be  bygones,  and  come  back  and  help 
run  the  business.  I  figure  it  out  that  the  old  man  is 
losing  his  grip,  and  naturally  turns  to  Kaltenborn.  But 
of  course  a  proposition  like  that  stirs  Kaltenborn  up. 
He  considers  it  a  reflection  on  his  sincerity.  But  the 
chances  are  that  Kaltenborn  senior  never  dreamt  of 
such  a  construction  being  put  on  his  letter.  All 
we  've  got  to  do  is  to  bring  Stephen  to  see  that." 

"  But  will  his  father  ever  forgive  him  as  long  as  he 
stays  in  the  ministry?"  asked  the  wife,  doubtfully. 
"  He  '11  never  give  that  up,  you  know." 

"  I  '11  wager  he  '11  forgive  him,"  said  Darlington,  con- 
fidently. 

Mrs.  Darlington  was  used  to  her  husband's  fits  of  en- 
thusiasm, and  she  did  not  attempt  to  argue  with  him 
now.  She  knew  that  his  enthusiasm  was  often  grounded 
on  fact,  and  she  hoped  it  might  be  so  in  this  case. 


CHAPTER    XXXIV 

THE  FIRST   BATTLE 

No  one  was  more  keenly  alive  to  the  stir  which  Carol's 
engagement  made  in  Ashboro  than  Carol  herself.  A 
few,  she  was  proud  to  believe,  would  understand  and 
applaud  her  devotion ;  but  most  people,  she  had  no 
doubt,  would  regard  her  prospective  alliance  as  a 
romantic  sacrifice  of  herself  Therefore  she  adopted 
toward  most  of  her  acquaintances,  in  the  matter  of  her 
engagement,  a  lofty  and  somewhat  unapproachable 
bearing,  which,  if  it  did  not  suppress  curiosity  and  criti- 
cism, at  least  kept  it  away  from  her  own  eyes  and  ears. 

It  was  his  friends  whom  she  feared  —  that  is  to  say, 
his  church-members.  Of  one  little  woman  in  particular, 
clad  in  a  snuff-colored  gown  and  a  dingy  little  brown 
bonnet,  Carol  stood  in  positive  terror.  She  had  never 
seen  this  little  woman  except  on  the  night  when  she 
read  in  the  ]\Iethodist  Church ;  but  the  withered,  di- 
minutive figure,  and  the  beady  little  eyes  staring  up  at 
her  with  cold,  piercing  fixity,  were  unforgettable.  Dating 
from  her  engagement  to  Kaltenborn,  the  memory  of 
these  eyes  began  to  haunt  Carol.  For  that  little  woman 
had  heard  Carol  denounced  from  the  pulpit ;  that  little 
woman  knew  she  was  rich,  and  danced,  and  played 
cards ;  that  little  woman  probably  believed  that  the 
very  clothes  upon  her  back  were  filched  from  the  poor. 


41  o  The  Darlingtons 

What  else  that  little  woman  beUeved  of  her,  Carol  did 
not  dare  try  to  imagine.  Yet  she,  as  Kaltenborn's 
wife,  would  have  to  win  that  Httle  woman's  confidence ; 
would  have  to  look  upon  her  as  a  sister  in  Christ ; 
would  have  to  extend  to  her  a  sisterly  hand,  and  that 
in  such  a  way  that  it  would  not  be  righteously  rejected 
as  a  contaminated  thing.  Carol  was  more  than  willing 
to  try ;  but  it  is  not  surprising  that  under  the  contem- 
plation of  her  future  duties  her  spirit  sometimes  sank. 

Now  and  then,  in  these  despondent  moodS;  she  was 
sharply  assailed  by  doubts  of  her  usefulness  to  Kalten- 
born,  and  was  rendered  utterly  miserable  by  the  fear 
that  possibly,  after  all,  she  would  prove  only  a  millstone 
around  his  neck.  She  bravely  kept  these  fears  to  her- 
self; but  once,  when  the  reaction  was  strongest  in  her, 
just  before  the  tide  turned  in  her  favor,  she  clasped  Kal- 
tenborn  around  the  neck  as  she  kissed  him  good-night, 
and  pressing  her  head  beseechingly  to  his  bosom,  she 
poured  out  all  her  troubles. 

To  her  over-wrought  imagination,  her  confession 
seemed  a  most  damning  thing,  not  only  betraying  a  mo- 
mentary weakness,  but  branding  her  forever  as  unfit  for 
the  high  position  to  which  she  aspired ;  and  she  pictured, 
with  a  little  despairing  shudder,  the  grief  and  consterna- 
tion with  which  Kaltenborn's  face  must  be  clouded. 
But  to  her  unutterable  relief,  he  only  turned  her  face  up- 
ward, with  the  grandeur  of  a  god  —  it  seemed  to  her  — 
and  sweetly,  reverently  kissed  her. 

"  My  well-beloved,"  he  said,  with  tranquil  joy,  "  if 
ever  I  saw  God  smiling  on  an  act  of  mine,  I  see  Him 
smiling  on  this  union  of  ours." 

Carol  felt  then  as  if  she  was  clinging  to  a  rock  from 
which  no  storm  could  sweep  her. 


The  First  Battle  411 

In  times  past,  before  his  engagement,  and  especially 
when  Kaltenborn  felt  discouraged,  he  had  occasionally 
speculated  on  the  feasibihty  of  going  somewhere  and 
establishing  an  independent  church  —  a  brotherhood- 
of-man  church,  with  no  creed,  and  open  to  all  who 
aspired  to  a  higher  life.  While  not  possessed  by  the 
idea,  and  regarding  it  only  as  a  possibility  of  the  future, 
the  prospect  of  freedom  and  independence  which  such 
a  scheme  opened  before  him  had  manifest  charms  for 
his  original  disposition.  After  their  engagement,  he  sev- 
eral times  dropped  remarks  which  showed  that  the  idea 
of  an  independent  church  was  still  stirring  in  his  mind. 

Carol  now  set  industriously  to  work  to  discourage  the 
project,  though  in  the  beginning  she  had  rather  favored  it. 
She  saw  that  the  whole  matter  had  its  roots  in  Kalten- 
born's  discontent,  and  this  discontent  she  hoped,  as  his 
wife,  to  abate,  if  not  entirely  remove.  Moreover,  she 
had  discovered  in  Kaltenborn  a  restlessness  and  love  of 
change  which  she  made  it  her  task  —  with  a  perfectly 
serious  and,  withal,  very  beautiful  assumption  of  raater- 
nalism  —  quietly  to  overcome.  Above  all,  she  had  a 
woman's  horror  of  being  outside  the  pale  of  a  system  or 
an  established  institution.  She  felt  safer  and  more  com- 
fortable behind  the  bulwarks  of  the  church,  even  though 
the  discipline  there  was  a  little  galling. 

Another  thing  which  gave  her  thought  was  Kalten- 
born's  half-formed  determination  of  asking  the  conference 
which  met  in  the  fall  to  remove  him  to  another  charge. 
In  the  beginning  she  had  unreservedly  favored  this  idea. 
She  feared  that  the  Ashboro  church,  for  reasons  already 
set  forth,  would  not  give  her  a  fair  trial ;  and  she  fancied 
she  could  assume  her  new  role  with  less  embarrassment 
in  a  place  where  the  curious  eyes  of  so  many  of  her  old 


412  The  Darlingtons 

friends  were  not  upon  her.  There  was  reason  in  this, 
too,  as  she  well  knew.  But  when  she  came  to  learn,  as 
she  did  in  time,  that  the  younger  element  of  the  Metho- 
dist Church  was  solidly  for  Kaltenborn's  return,  her 
conscience  began  to  trouble  her.  To  leave  Ashboro 
under  these  circumstances  seemed  like  ignominious  flight, 
not  at  all  worthy  of  the  brave  resolutions  she  had  been 
making.  At  last  she  brought  the  matter  before  Kalten- 
born,  though  with  some  reluctance. 

"  Then  you  think,  do  you,"  he  asked,  smihng,  "  that 
after  all  these  years  of  plucking  out  the  choicest  morsels 
from  the  fleshpots,  you  can  make  the  people  of  Ashboro 
believe  that  you  are  really  coming  down  to  a  fare  of 
herbs?" 

"  They  will  have  to  believe  it,  if  I  eat  at  a  table  where 
there  is  nothing  but  herbs,  — won't  they?''  she  asked. 

Kaltenborn  fell  into  a  thoughtful  silence.  "  Do  you 
really  want  me  to  come  back  here  another  year  ? "  he 
asked,  finally. 

"  You  must  say  us,  now,"  she  corrected,  brightly. 

"  We  are  not  married  yet, "  he  said,  smihng. 

She  gave  him  another  affectionate  glance.  ^'I  fancy 
we  are,  dear,"  she  answered,  soberly,  ''if  marriages  are 
made  in  heaven.' '  In  answer  to  his  question,  she  added  : 
"Yes,  I  want  to  stay  here.  That  is,  if  you  want  to.  I 
would  sooner  go  away,  I  beheve,  if  I  simply  followed  my 
inclination,  for  I  feel  that  it  would  be  easier  for  me.  And 
yet  I  feel  as  though  that  would  be  shrinking  from  the  very 
first  blow  of  the  battle  I  am  going  to  fight.  I  am  deathly 
afraid  of  some  of  your  people  —  some  of  our  people, 
dear,"  she  corrected,  softly.  "  I  am  afraid  of  that  little 
old  woman  in  the  snuff-colored  gown,  —  you  never  told 
me  her  name.    And  I  'm  afraid  of  your  landlady.    But  I 


The  First  Battle  413 

am  not  going  to  run  away  from  them.  I  am  going  to 
march  right  up,  even  if  my  knees  shake  under  me. 
Stephen,  are  you  laughing  at  me? " 

"  With  you,  girl,  not  at  you.  You  were  laughing 
yourself.'^  He  reached  over  and  took  her  hand  thought- 
fully. Of  late  he  had  fallen  into  a  way  of  requiring  this 
aid  to  thought.  It  was  on  his  tongue  to  caution  her 
against  over-valiance,  and  to  warn  her  against  unneces- 
sary combats ;  but  he  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to 
say  anything  that  might  by  any  possibility  chill  her  enthu- 
siasm. "You  will  rout  your  foes,  if  we  stay,  I  have  no 
doubt,"  he  answered.  "The  question  is,  can  I  rout 
mine?  I  can  come  back  here,  if  I  say  the  word,  it's 
true.  There  is  some  comfort  in  the  thought,  too.  But 
can  I  live  if  I  do  ?  There  are  three  or  four  old  men  in 
this  church  whom  I  can  never  get  along  with,  and  they 
have  a  small  following.  Old  man  Collier,  for  instance, 
pays  fifty  dollars  a  year  to  the  church.  If  I  come  back 
next  year,  he  says  he  won't  pay  a  cent." 

"  Did  he  say  that?"  asked  Carol,  incredulously. 

"  He  did  —  in  the  last  quarterly  conference." 

"  Right  before  you  ?  "  she  asked,  with  flashing  eyes. 

"  Right  before  me." 

For  a  moment  her  cheeks  burned  with  indignation, 
and  her  sweet  mouth  set  threateningly.  Then  she  asked, 
softly,  giving  his  hand  an  encouraging  caress,  "  What  did 
you  say,  dear  ?  " 

Kaltenborn's  eyes  twinkled  humorously  as  he  answered, 
"  I  simply  said,  '  Brethren,  that  is  twenty  pieces  more  of 
silver  than  was  offered  Judas  Iscariot.'  " 

"  No,  Stephen  !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  true  Darlington 
exultation  lighting  her  face.     "  Good  ! " 

"  No,  bad,"  he  corrected,  soberly.     ^^  A  quarterly  con- 


414  The  Darlingtons 

ference  is  not  exactly  a  board  of  directors'  meeting,"  he 
added,  smiling.  "The  old  man  hasn't  been  out  to 
church  since.  Had  I  not  been  quite  so  handy  wdth  my 
wit,  I  might  have  won  him  over.  Then  there  is  old  Billy 
Walters.  I  think  he  'd  pick  heresies  in  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount,  if  he  found  it  outside  the  covers  of  the  Bible." 
He  paused,  and  she  laughed  keenly.  They  could  say 
these  httle  things  to  each  other,  and  expected  always  to 
say  them.  "  Altogether,  I  have  thought  it  best  at  times 
to  let  some  other  man  take  the  helm  here.  I  don't 
know,  though,  whether  he  could  do  any  better  than  I 
have." 

"'  He  might  not  do  as  well,"  she  suggested,  with  un- 
questioning confidence  in  his  ability.  "  And  you  have 
all  the  young  people  on  your  side.  They  are  the  real 
workers  in  the  church,  after  all.  What  do  you  care  for  a 
few  crotchety  old  men  ?  They  '11  soon  be  dead  and  gone, 
anyhow.'' 

*^  No,  I  think  some  of  them  have  set  out  to  break 
Methuselah's  record,"  he  answered,  grimly.  "Anyhow," 
he  added,  "  they  are  not  likely  to  die  in  time  to  be  of 
any  senice  to  me." 

"  Well,  Stephen,  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  step  down 
and  out  and  thus  virtually  assist  them  in  dictating  the 
policy  of  the  church.  They  are  reactionists,  and  I  think 
it  is  your  duty  to  oppose  them,"  she  added,  stanchly. 
"  If  you  resign,  and  they  get  a  man  that  won't  oppose 
them,  it  will  leave  the  young  people  helpless.  Dear,  you 
ought  not  to  leave.  And  /  want  to  stay  —  now,"  she 
added,  pleadingly.  "  I  thought  at  first  that  I  could  do 
better  somewhere  else,  but  I  believe  that  is  only  because 
that  somewhere  else  is  shadowy  now.  As  soon  as  we 
got  there,   and   stepped  off  the   train,   and  everything 


The  First  Battle  415 

looked  strange  and  inhospitable,  and  we  met  the  stew- 
ards and  trustees,  —  or  whomever  we  do  meet,  —  I  should 
be  just  as  nervous  as  I  am  now.  And  my  friends  here 
won't  bother  me  any.  They  will  drop  me,  —  all  except 
some  dear,  sweet  girls  who  would  n't  drop  me  if  I  should 
put  on  a  Salvation  Army  bonnet  and  kneel  in  the  streets. 
And  I  want  the  others  to  drop  me.  They  never  did  me 
any  good,  and  —  I  have  you,  Steve  boy  !  "  she  concluded, 
with  a  joyous  little  movement  toward  him. 

*•'  Yes,  you  have  me  beyond  a  doubt,"  answered  Kal- 
tenborn,  soberly.  After  a  moment's  hesitation  he  drew  a 
letter  from  his  pocket.  "  I  got  this  three  days  ago.  I 
have  n't  shown  it  to  you  because  I  have  been  thinking  it 
over.  But  after  what  you  've  said,  I  can't  withhold  it 
longer.  It 's  from  a  Methodist  church  in  Cincinnati, 
where  I  preached  three  months  as  a  supply  before  I 
entered  this  conference,  and  it  extends  to  me  again  the 
invitation  which  I  refused  at  that  time." 

He  handed  Carol  the  letter.  After  she  had  read  it 
through,  she  slowly  folded  it  up  again  with  luminous 
eyes.  '•  This  must  make  you  very  proud  and  happy, 
dear  !  "  she  said. 

''  It  does,"  he  answered. 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence.  "  What  answer  shall 
you  make  ?  "  Carol  then  asked  softly,  regarding  him  with 
curious,  wistful  eyes. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  answered,  gravely.  "  I  'm  on  a 
sea  of  doubt.  Two  years  ago  I  refused  the  invitation 
because  I  thought  I  could  do  more  good  in  a  humbler 
sphere.  This  church  is  fashionable  and  wealthy,  —  as 
different  from  the  Ashboro  Methodist  Church  as  anything 
you  can  imagine.  It  seemed  to  me  then  that  such  people 
had  less  need  of  my  services  than  some  other  people  less 


41 6  The  Darlingtons 

favored."  He  paused  a  moment.  *'  I  have  changed  ray 
mind  somewhat  on  that  point  of  late.  I  have  found  that 
a  man  cannot  wholly  disregard  environment.  My  min- 
istry here  can  hardly  be  called  a  success.  I  have  done 
good,  I  know,  but  I  have  also  done  harm." 

*'  More  good  than  harm,  Stephen/'  said  Carol. 

"  I  hope  so, "  answered  Kaltenborn.  "  But  what  wears 
on  me  most  here  —  what  makes  me  think  more  than 
anything  else  that  a  change  would  be  best  for  both  the 
people  and  me  and  the  cause  of  righteousness  —  is 
this  eternal  stultification  of  my  conscience  and  my  behef 
which  I  have  to  practise  here.  Extra-orthodoxy  binds 
me  here  as  with  bonds  of  iron.  In  this  charge  I  am, 
in  a  sense,  a  living  lie." 

A  profound  sadness  thrilled  his  voice,  and  touched 
the  heart  of  the  woman  before  him.  Then,  for  a 
moment,  visions  of  that  cultivated  city  church,  in  which 
she  would  so  naturally  find  an  honored  place,  floated 
before  her  mind  and  half-dazzled  her.  But  she  dared 
not  speak  just  then.  Too  much  was  trembling  in  the 
balance. 

"  Had  you  not  spoken  as  you  have,"  continued  Kal- 
tenborn, slowly  and  with  a  kind  of  hesitation,  "  I  should 
feel  free  to  accept  this  invitation." 

Carol  opened  his  coat  and  slipped  the  letter  back  into 
his  pocket.  Then  she  laid  her  hands  upon  his  shoulders 
and  looked  up  into  his  face  with  the  tranquil  eyes  of  love. 

"  Whither  thou  goest,  my  love,  I  will  go  ;  and  where 
thou  lodgest,  I  will  lodge;  thy  people  shall  be  my 
people,  and  thy  God  my  God ;  where  thou  diest,  will  I 
die,  and  there  will  I  be  buried !  " 

THE  END 


/ 


^ 


